Light in the Darkness
by Clouddoodles
Summary: Mail Jeevas, now known as Matt Carters, has moved with his family to Winchester, England to escape the cruelty that haunts them. The basic rule is: lie low, don't make close ties. But what happens when what Matt's been running from catches up to him? Just when darkness seems to come crashing down around him, Matt may have found his light. AU, shonen-ai, Matt/Mello *ON HIATUS*
1. Matt

** IT'S LONG BUT READ: Okay, new story time! Matt/Mello. I know this plot is kind of overused, BUT with each take on it comes a unique story with interesting pasts, plotlines, et cetera. **

** Basic summary: Mail Jeevas, now known as Matt Carters, has moved with his family to Winchester, England to escape the cruelty that haunts them. The basic rule is: lie low, don't make close ties. But what happens when what Matt's been running from catches up to him? Just when the darkness seems to come crashing down around him, Matt may have found his light. What **_**if **_**he meets one person that he just can't resist? AU. **

** Wow, cheesy summary… bad, too. But I actually labored over the wording with that one. **

** DISCLAIMER: I'll say this once: No, I don't own the amazing, fantastical, wondersometastic anime/manga that we know as Death Note. If I did I wouldn't be writing for Fanfiction, and L/Light and Matt/Mello would NOT be fan made. Also I would be filthy rich. **

** To anyone who hasn't read my other stuff: I tend to listen to Backstreet Boys whilst writing (I always do, it never fails) so if the characters suddenly act all weird and angsty or OOC it's probably me listening to some A) sad song or B) some song that "totally fits the moment!" (It probably doesn't.) **

** SORRY! If you're still reading my thoughts, then thank you. **

**ALSO IMPORTANT: somewhat depressed, slightly suicidal Matt (Cloudy, just say it all in one word: Emo. God.) ALSO there IS child abuse in this story, okay? Also, language and male/male romance. No smut, because I can tell you now I am far too scared to write that, and it would be really, really bad. Plus my parents have access to this computer. *Shudders* If they found some of the stuff I read, I would have my hands chopped off. No, just kidding. But they'd be all like… O.e my child likes gay couples? Okay… (They won't understand the magic.)**

** NO I'm not like super young (creepy pervert, I know you're there). I am perfectly capable of watching PG movies BY MY SELF and I can use a KNIFE! Oh, also I know SWEAR WORDS! I'm so fucking badass. **

** One last thing (I know, I know.) Schooling systems are different in England than in America, where I live. I have the Internet to provide me with answers, but I will make weird mistakes. Also things are very different language wise in England, and I'm doing my best. Please go with it. **

** Please read now, and accept my apologies for making you read all that!**

**Matt POV**

"Remember, your name is Matt Carters now, okay?" I nod, watching blankly as the smoke from my cigarette swirls into the air and dissipates.

"And you," Mother turns to Mari, my older cousin and aspiring model, "Are Misa."

She squeals. "Misa-Misa! Oh, it's so cute!"

My Mother is a frail woman. Her hair is greying and thin, and her skin hangs off her bones in a sickly manner. Of course, every bone in _my _body is just as prominent.

Mari, now known as Misa, is a ditz. The blonde, heavily make-upped girl is so stereotypical of a model, even blondes in generally, it's ridiculous. She has the intelligence of a fruit, and is flirt level nine thousand. Despite how utterly annoying she is, she _is _my cousin, and I care about her.

She's had her fair share of horrors, just like Mother and me. We were Mari's only family after her parents disowned her because she was a "total disgrace and a slut", not that we were any better.

I'm surprised we managed to get here. I can still feel the marks burning under my clothes, the discolorations that are scattered across my arms and shoulders, and a little while ago, my jaw. I subconsciously rub the spot, and I can still feel the jarring sensation of a drunken fist colliding with my face.

"Matt, can you _please _not smoke inside? If you aren't going to stop soon, I'm going to confiscate them."

"Sorry," I grumble, snuffing out the "cancer stick", as Mother calls them. "I'm working on it, alright?"

"I know," she sighs, her head in her hands, hunched in her seat at our second-hand dining table. Our new house is tiny, but nice enough to be socially acceptable. It's not Mother's fault that we are pretty much dirt poor.

"Listen, you two. We are in no way safe here, not yet. We absolutely _have _to lie low, and we may have to pick up and leave at any time. Because of this, we all need to try to avoid close relationships with anyone, okay? Just try not to draw attention to yourselves and no matter what, do _not _tell _anyone _who you really are, or why you're here, okay? Please promise me this." Her tired eyes are pleading, and I find myself without options.

"Of course," I say, and "Misa" nods grimly, sobered only by this.

"We promise. We both understand exactly why were here, and exactly what we have to do, Charlotte." My mother's real name is Hannah, but that was back in the states.

"Thank you," she replies earnestly. "Now, you remember our story, right?"

"Yeah, we moved here because your mother's house was left to you," Misa says before I can even open my mouth. I nod.

"And your father?"

"He left before we were even born," I say somewhat robotically.

"And you and Misa are…?"

"Siblings," we say in unison.

She nods. "If we manage to hide for a few months, we should be safe, so just hold tight for a while."

I nod, running a hand through my hair. _I hate this. I would rather be here than there, but why did we have to come all the way to England? Our accents will give us away immediately. But then, will he really come all the way out here just to find us? I wouldn't put it past him. _

I will have to work now. Back in Seattle, Washington, I did odd jobs for the neighbors and such, but I didn't have a steady job. I hope I can get _something _related to technology, and hopefully nothing where I have to talk to people a lot. I don't like socializing very much. I've never had luck with people, which is why I prefer to immerse myself in video games and interact with little programmed people made of pixels.

I don't mind that I can't really make friends here. Not that I had any back home. I doubt anyone will _want _to be friends with the shy gamer that I am. I tend to fuck things up.

Misa sighs dramatically. "I suppose this means I can't keep modeling, then! Oh, at this rate I'll never get singing!" Misa, Mari, whatever, has a good voice that we _know _people would be interested in, and her looks are unquestionable. But at our current position, she can't continue. Dad only allowed her to model because it led to money.

Mother looks torn. We need the money it provides, but before we left her image was gaining popularity very quickly, and if it continues she'll probably be know worldwide some day. And therein lies the problem.

"I'm sorry, Misa, but no. Not for a few years, at least. Give it two years, and if he hasn't come after us, then we'll talk about things like that," Mother says after some thought.

Misa sighs again, her tone and appearance showing her disappointment for all to see. Modeling and singing are her passions, but even an air head like her understands the circumstances.

"You two start school on Monday. I know it's inconvenient to start five weeks after the year has already started, but it can't be helped. As long as you two keep your grades at average, it should be fine." I'm really starting to feel trapped here. Do we really have to stay so low that we have to erase our identities and replace them with the standard level of "normal?"

I'm not normal. There's so much that makes me fucked up it's impossible to name them all. I'm hoping that maybe, now that we're starting over I'll be able to fix myself. But the idea of that is slowly being crushed.

It's probably pointless, anyway. I'm probably a lost cause. And then there's the fact that as much as we want to fool ourselves into thinking so, we are not safe. We haven't yet rid ourselves of the corrupted, sick bastard I have the luck to call my father.

I hope he gets a nail driven into both eye sockets, and a bullet shot up his ass before he's left to bleed to death. He deserves it. Some people really do deserve to die long, painful, suffering deaths, and my dad is one of them.

Mother gets up slowly and pads over to the tiny kitchen sink. I get up and walk through a doorway into the living room, which leads to a short hall that branches off in a bathroom and two bedrooms. Misa and Mother are sharing the master bedroom; I thankfully get the small one to myself. Everything in this house is small. I don't mind, really. We have electricity, water, heating, albeit crappy, and a basement. The basement kind of seems like a sad afterthought added to the house because there is all of one storage closet above ground. A single bulb lights the tiny, cold cement floored room below, but it works.

I slip into the back yard, which is about sixteen square feet of grass and a tree, and pull my lighter and another cig out of my pocket. I know Mother wants me to stop, but I've done these since I was seven, thanks to my dad, and now I'm sixteen. Nine years I've smoked. And in all honesty, if I get cancer, no one will really care. Sure, Mother and Misa will miss me, but it'll mean one less mouth to feed, one less person to worry about. They can provide for just them without me.

No one would care if one day my heart stopped beating.

_He _would probably be happy.

. . .

"God, this is going to be _so _fun," I mutter sarcastically as we walk into the school building, my orange goggles pushed up into my reddish-brown hair. Misa rolls her eyes, walking beside me on the way to the office.

"Matt, can't you try to be positive? We've come so far, it won't be long before we're safe once and for all!"

"Keep your voice down!" I hiss as we walk past a group of junkies.

"Sorry," she whines. "Just be nice to people, okay? This is our chance to make friends."

"We aren't supposed to get close to people," I remind her.

She pouts. "You could at least try socializing."

I shake my head. "No, I'm not good with that."

She sighs, but doesn't press on because we've reached the office. I push the door open and walk in, not bothering to hold it for Misa. I let her walk up to the secretary, Ms. Chen's desk, though. She can do the talking.

"Hello!" she says cheerily. The old, kind-looking woman looks up.

"Oh, hello dears!" her accent is heavy. "You are…?"

"We're the new students from America," Misa says, still smiling.

"Oh, of course! Well, I'd better give you your schedules." She pronounces "schedule" differently than in America.

"You must be Misa, and Matt, right?" We both nod, and I stick my hands in the pockets of my vest.

"Right, here's a map of the school, and on the back are your schedules. Misa, you'll be going to Mrs. Kane's language arts first…Misa, you are grade twelve and Matt eleven, yes?"

I nod. Misa's only older than me by about a year, but she makes it out to be a far greater gap. I have no idea how Misa has made it to twelfth grade with her intelligence level, but some mysteries really do have no answer.

"Matt, you'll be going to Mr. Crosby's room. Do either of you need help finding your way around?"

"I'll be fine," I inform her, "But I think Misa might need some help. She's a bit forgetful."

Misa throws me an angry glance before laughing self-consciously.

"Yeah, I am," she admits.

"That's not a problem, I can easily get someone to help you. Just a moment, dears." She gets up and hobbles through a door into the back rooms of the office. It isn't long before she comes back out with a brunette boy, about Misa's age if not a little older, watching us with almost golden eyes.

"This is Light Yagami," Ms. Chen says his name with a kind of reverence. This guy is obviously a big shot with the teachers, and probably with the students too.

I can practically feel Misa about to explode next to me.

"Misa, he will can guide you around the school. Please, both of you feel free to ask him any questions about the school you have."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Light says, his voice smooth and cordial. Definitely a popular guy.

I glance at Misa, and am unsurprised to find her ogling with wide eyes and blush creeping across her face.

"Hi," she says somewhat breathlessly. "I'm Ma-Misa." I growl inwardly as she stumbles over her name. Light smiles at her, but I can see that he knows exactly what kind of girl she is and what she's thinking.

Misa is a massive flirt, as well as a clingy one. She doesn't know when to stop, and she will _not _stop until she gets what she wants. And she obviously wants this attractive Light guy.

I roll my eyes and pocket my schedule. I've already memorized it, and this school is easy to navigate.

"Thanks, but I'm good. Misa, I'm going now."

"Okay, bye-bye Matt! So, Light! Can you please show me where everything is? I have a feeling I'm going to get lost!" I close the door on her giggling, and feel kind of sorry for Light. My cousin is difficult sometimes.

Only Misa is my sister here. _Mari _is my cousin. And I am Matt, not Mail. I realized that I'm going to be living two lives; one as a shy gamer who gets normal grades and is practically a nobody, and another as the relatively depressed gamer who could probably pass most of the tests he's going to take before he even starts school, who is also only here to hide from a psycho drug-addict, alcoholic parent.

Matt the nobody is going to be prominent, because I don't have much of a choice. I have to practically give up who I really am for our safety.

Of course, no one really cared or cares about who I really am. I'm just that one antisocial guy who fucks things up and can't do anything to fix his screwed up life.

Oh well, I've learned to live with it. Hell, I grew up with it.

I find my classroom easily, and just sit against the wall in a shadow, focusing on my muted Gameboy. I bring my games everywhere I go; I practically live in them.

When I was little, games were my escape. They still are, really. I would play them at night instead of sleeping, because the nightmares were so bad. Every once in a while I still get them, but it's not so much a problem as it used to be.

"You're new," comes a low monotone of a voice, stating, not questioning. I look up at the pale boy standing in front of me. He has practically white hair and dark eyes, wearing a casual white-button up shirt and jeans.

"Yeah," I reply before returning my attention back to rescuing Zelda.

"What's your name?" he asks.

"Matt."

"Nate." I don't look up at him, but I nod once. "But I prefer Near."

I nod again, walking Link around in a circle out of boredom.

"What state are you from?"

"Washington." This Near guy isn't overly annoying, and he seems at least a bit intelligent, judging by his observation skills. At least he isn't pretending to instantly like me. He doesn't talk to me again, but he stands by the door, fiddling with a few Legos.

"Near!" someone calls, and I hear footsteps running over. I look up and see a girl with her wild blonde hair held back with a number of pins and a hair tie. She clutches her binder to her chest, biting her lip somewhat nervously.

The only reaction Near gives her is a blink. She seems to take this as a suitable answer, and holds up her binder.

"I know you don't like this, but I really need help. See, I don't get the lesson we learned Friday, and I know that we're having a test on it today! I studied over the weekend, but I really don't get it. I'm so bad at maths," she explains in a hurried voice. She smiles meekly. "Do you think you could help me again?"

Near tilts his head, looking up. "I suppose. What don't you get?" She smiles with relief and pulls a paper from her binder, gesturing at different parts of it and going into detail about what she can do and what is driving her "bloody crazy".

Within a few minuets she's thanking Near and running off to meet her impatiently waiting friends by the water fountain. I continue moving Link through the land of Hyrule, quickly checking the time on my phone. I wonder how far Misa's gotten in fifteen minutes. We got here about twenty-five minutes early, although I would have liked to stay home a bit longer. I'm not too much of a morning person.

The other students in my first period, science, are starting to show up. I watch them out my peripheral vision, noting that the school has a decent mix of ethnicities.

"Hey, who's that kid over there? He new?"

Great, the attention I don't want.

"Yeah, he's new. I definitely haven't seen him around."

"He's kind of cute!" God, girls are so annoying.

"Goggles? Stripes? Really?"

"He's not even acknowledging us."

_Leave me alone, _I groan inwardly as a pair of girls in miniskirts and furry boots walk over to me.

"Hi!" the one on the right smiles, pulling her dark hair to one side of her head.

"What's your name?" say the girl on the left, who looks strikingly similar to the other. They must be sisters, if not twins.

"Matt."

"I'm Cassie," say the girl on the left. I can see that they have different colored eyes. Cassie has brown and her sister has hazel.

"I'm Rachel. Are you from America?"

"Yeah."

She flashes another white smile. "Do you need help finding your way around?"

"Nah, I'm good, thanks."

She seems disappointed. "Are you sure? Do you know anyone here?"

"Just my sister."

"Who's she?" Asks a guy with messy sandy hair, joining in on the conversation.

"Her name's Misa, but I'm pretty sure she's interested in the guy who's showing her around… What was his name? Light or something." Guys were always interested in Mari's looks, and I suppose it'll be no different for Misa. The boy seems to loose his interest, muttering something about how all the new girls seem to get caught before he can meet them.

"Bugger it," he mutters, retreating back into the small mod of students.

"Misa… Oh, I saw her earlier! Yeah, she was practically attached to Light. I don't think she's very interested in learning her way around," some other guy muses, earning some laughs. I try to drown them out and focus on my game. The Cassie and Rachel are chatting with some of their other friends, so I'm left alone for the moment.

The bell rings, and I'm forced to turn my game off. Teachers don't seem to understand that I can do just fine in class, even if I'm gaming. I took some test when I was younger that proved I was technically a genius, but it's not like that changed anything.

I slip into the classroom last, pocketing my Gameboy. I go to the back of the room where there are a few unclaimed seats and sit in the closet seat to the corner. Mr. Crosby is a young man with glasses and a very unique tie with bananas and monkeys on it.

He glances around the class, frowning slightly. His eyes finally fall on me, and his frown disappears.

"Ah, you in the back, you're Matt Carters, right?"

"Yeah," I nod, wishing that the entire class, excepting Near, hadn't turned around in their seats to look at me. I can feel the girls who hadn't had a good look at me before running me down with their eyes.

I really don't like girls. They tend to be very fake and obnoxious.

Mr. Crosby walks back with a small packet of papers. "I need you to fill all of these out and turn them in by Friday. It's just the basic information we need on students, as well as a quick assessment to see what you already know, as well as a class syllabus. You can work on that now, because the class is taking a quiz that you haven't been prepared for yet."

I accept the packet and pull a pen out of my backpack without a word. He returns to the front of the class and begins instructing them on what to do.

I look through the stuff, filling out the info like my address and guardian name without much thought. All I need is a signature, and that will be taken care of. I turn my attention to the "assessment" in the back of the packet. It's a three-page multiple-choice test, and it is _painfully _easy. Although science isn't my best subject, I spent a good two years of my early childhood reading textbooks, because then I thought if I could please people by doing something right, my problems would start to go away. They didn't, but I ended up ready to skip a few grades by the time I took the gifted test.

I know almost all the answers to these questions. I should just go with the answer I know is correct, but Mother said to keep a low profile. Not to draw attention. If I get the grades I would normally receive, and let the fact that I'm not some idiot smoker rotting his brain out with video games be proven absolutely, one hundred percent _wrong, _I would be drawing attention to myself.

So I answer about half of them correctly, the easy ones that everyone knows, and let myself get the difficult ones that people just starting shouldn't know. I get what would be considered "average".

And I'm done in about fifteen minuets, before anyone is done with the quiz. Except Near, however.

I pull my Gameboy out and start playing under the desk, thankful that Mr. Crosby doesn't look back in this corner very much.

. . .

Misa's sociality is insane. She already has people to eat with, meaning that I do too. I would probably sit alone in a corner, but Misa dragged me over to her new table, where Light was of course sitting. Apparently Light's friends consist of Near, a pair of odd-looking twins named Lawliet and Beyond, as he had said he wanted to be called. There are differences in them, but they look more or less the same. Lawliet has darker circles under his eyes than Beyond, though, and has worse posture. They seem to have their own food preferences. Lawliet has a bunch of sugary crap, and Beyond seems content with a jar of strawberry jam. And from what I've noticed, Beyond seems to have a wicked side.

Lawliet is pretty much quiet, but he watches me curiously with wide grey eyes. He reminds me a bit of Near, which makes sense because they claim to be cousins.

"I wonder where Mello went off to _this _time?" Light sighs. Beyond grins evilly.

"He's probably beating up some eighth grader for looking at him the wrong way."

"Probably," Lawliet agrees in a similar monotone to Near's.

"Hi Light!" says a girl who looks strikingly similar to the boy sitting beside Misa.

"Hey, Sayu. What is it?"

Sayu smiles. "I just came over to say hi to my brother and his nerd friends! Who are the newcomers?" she looks at Misa and me. I glance at her before returning to my game. My sandwich lies barely touched in front of me.

"Matt and Misa. They're new here," Light explains.

"I wouldn't say Misa belongs with the 'nerd group,'" I mutter, and Misa pouts, her expression earning some laughs from the others. Well, Lawliet smiles slightly and Near just watches blankly.

Sayu giggles. "Don't worry, Misa. They need a girl here, anyway. And it's nice to meet you, Matt!" she winks at us before rejoining her group of gossiping girls.

"Is she your sister?" Misa asks Light.

He nods. "She's in ninth grade."

"Well, you're right Matt, I guess I don't belong with the smart guys," Misa says grudgingly. "But you do at least!"

I glare at her. _Mari… What are you doing?_

"No I don't."

"Yes you do! You practically aced that test thing you took when you were younger, and you-"

"Misa," I warn her, and she shuts up, realizing that she's saying too much.

She smiles after a moment. "Whatever, Matt. You're smart no matter what you say."

I just ignore her, focusing on getting Mario to the next level. I've already beaten the game four times, but it never gets old for me. It isn't long before I decide that I've had enough of the lunch scene and I get up to leave.

"Matt, where are you going?" Misa asks, looking up at me.

"Dunno, but I'm done so…" I shrug and walk over to the trash, slipping my game into my pocket so I don't walk into anyone. I'm pretty good at multitasking, but the school is a new place.

I walk out of the cafeteria and head to my locker. I head down the halls and finally get to it. _This school is too damn big, _I grumble to myself. I'm about to enter my combination in when I hear footsteps and someone calls out,

"Hey, gamer boy! Yeah, you the new kid!" I look towards the voice and wish I could just disappear. A gang of four guys in sagging jeans and sweatshirts or loose t-shirts stalks towards me. In a few seconds I'm surrounded by them, and I can see each of them has some form of jewelry, whether a chain or earrings or such.

"What do you want?" I sigh, turning around and facing them, leaning against the lockers and wishing I had a cigarette. I'm not used to having to go a whole day without one.

The biggest one, obviously the leader, jeers at me. "Don't be all _cool _with us, stripes. We think you need to know how things work at our school."

"I honestly don't give a fuck how things 'work at your school'," I snap. They're getting a bit close, and I don't like it. I don't like it when people get all close around me like this. I don't like feeling trapped.

"I think you need some respect. Don't know how things are back in _America, _but here you aren't anyone important, got that?" The leader snarls in my face.

"I never said I was." I attempt to slip around him, but one of the other boys steps in front of me, sneering.

"I don't think he gets it, Kevin," he jeers.

"You're right. We should teach him," Kevin agrees, then nods his head once. In an instant the other guy standing behind him, the one with a buzz cut, comes forward and slams me back against the lockers, lifting me up by the front of my clothes so that my heels are off the ground. I hiss in both pain and surprise, sending a kick at him. My sleeves have ridden up a bit, almost exposing the nearly faded marks. Almost exposing marks that will never fade completely.

I don't like being touched, and now I'm being held against my will. Panic tinges the edges of my thoughts, and I struggle to get away from them. Buzz cut's fists dig into my chest, pushing me into the lockers and probably giving me another set of bruises.

My nails dig into his hands and I send another kick his way, this time colliding with his shin. He winces, his grip loosening slightly, but the two on the side grab my wrists. I wince at this, and suddenly I feel my panic rising. This is a familiar scene for me. This is _too _familiar. I can't fight back, and I'm trapped. I snarl, bringing my knee up in attempt to shove buzz cut in the stomach. All I can really do is kick, though. I'm not very strong.

Suddenly the weight is ripped off my chest and my feet hit the floor again. My wrists are freed with the momentum, and I cringe into the lockers, watching with wide eyes as buzz cut is shoved to the floor and the two others are yanked by their hair. Within a few moments, the four gang members are away from me, forcibly removed by a slightly feminine, though obviously male, blonde.

The blonde's icy blue eyes are narrowed angrily, and he looks ready to kill someone. Even Kevin looks worried at the newcomer, who scowls at him.

"What the _fuck _do you think you're doing?" the blonde snarls, jerking the boys by their hair, earning a whimper from each of them. Buzz cut is sitting up, rubbing his shoulder and glowering at the blonde.

"What does it look like we were doing?" Kevin grumbles.

"Like you were about to beat this kid fucking senseless! That's _my _job, damn it! Since when do you go around pounding the new kids, huh Kevin? I didn't think you were this damn pathetic!" he lets go of the two boys' hair and glances at me. I haven't moved from my spot on the floor in front of the lockers, sitting with my knees bent and my arms pulled close to my chest. This position is also familiar, except usually I'd be hiding in some forgotten corner of the house, hoping to stay unnoticed.

His attention returns to the gang, kicking the guy to his right when he tries to get up and glaring around. "You got me on a bad day, you know! You're lucky I don't kill you all just because I don't have any fucking chocolate left!"

"Sorry, Mello," Kevin mutters, looking down irritably. _Mello? Didn't Light say something about him? _Mello was missing when we were eating.

"Just scram," Mello hisses, and they don't hesitate to heed his orders, glancing at me as they leave. I watch them leave, blinking a few times to clear my head.

"Hey, are you alright?" I just now realize that Mello's accent isn't really British. It sounds faintly Russian, as far as I can place it, and maybe a little American. It's definitely a mix, meaning he's probably been places.

"Uh, yeah," I mutter, getting to my feet. Mello is a little taller than me, maybe and inch or two. "Thanks," I meet his eyes for a second. He still looks mad, but his anger doesn't seem directed at anyone in particular. His eyes are actually _really _blue. It's kind of surprising.

"No problem. There all idiots anyway." He fixes the collar of his black jacket, which got twisted somehow. He's wearing pretty much all black: black skinny jeans, black jacket, and a white shirt just peeking out from the top of his jacket where the zipper is down a little. I notice a glimmer of red and black beads around his neck, but Mello's shoulder length hair covers them. He's attractive, in all honesty.

"I can't believe them," he grumbles to himself, glancing at me again. I realize I was still watching him, and I quickly look away. I honestly don't know what to make of Mello.

"Do you have any idea why they decided to go after you? They usually stick to the youngest kids," Mello questions after a moment. I laugh once, no humor in my tone.

"Because, I'm weak. I make the perfect target," I answer him. "'Intelligent' or not, when it comes down to it, I make an ideal punching bag." _For twisted drunken smokers and kids alike._

Mello crosses his arms. "You speak from experience," he observes. Much like Near, it is not a question. It's a statement.

"Yeah," I mumble bitterly.

"What's your name?"

"Matt." Now we're back to the typical new-kid interrogations. Oh well.

To my surprise, he doesn't say anything else, just watches me curiously. I remember what I was here to do and turn back to my locker, opening it easily and tossing the crap from the earlier classes in my locker. When I shut it and face him again, he's digging through his backpack.

"Fuck it," he mutters.

"What?"

"I'm out of chocolate again." He throws his backpack over his shoulder again, looking extremely put off.

I can't help but smirk a little. "Chocolate?"

"Haven't you ever had some? It's like a drug!"

"I can relate."

"What do you have next?"

"Math… Miss. Norman." He scowls.

"Same. So does the sheep."

"The sheep?"

"Near," he says the name like it's a piece of rotten food. "Fucking little suck up."

"Is he?" We start walking now, heading towards the classroom as more and more people start appearing in the halls. I notice that a lot of them are staring at the two of us as we walk past, but I ignore it.

"Yes. _Always _ahead by half a point, less sometimes! The only person who bests him is Lawliet, but even then…" he mutters something about little albino brats under his breath.

"That explains why people are constantly going up to him with their math homework," I muse.

Mello nods, glaring at two guys staring openly at us, mouths open. "It's not like I have two heads or something," he snaps. They quickly turn away, mumbling what sounds like an apology. As we walk, I notice a slight ache forming in my back where I was slammed into the lockers. I push it to the back of my mind, not wanting to dwell on it.

For some reason I find Mello very… interesting. He's different than the other people I've met, although some of them are very unique. We talk a little outside of the classroom, and I find myself liking him. He's fierce and seemingly cold, but I think there's more to him than that.

Maybe I'll be lucky enough to find out, if I can stick around long enough that is.

** Long chapter, not all of them will be this long. I think, maybe. This is just the beginning, and all introductory chapters are a bit different than the rest of the story. Also, yes, Matt is a bit OOC but he kind of has to be. **

** I haven't actually read the story with Beyond and stuff (What's it called, Los Angeles: BB Murder Case or something?), but I figured I'd put him in the story for kicks. He's a very minor character. **

** Please R&R! Reviews inspire faster updates and more romance! **

** I am perfecting my creepy Ryuk laugh: Kyah kyah kyahhh! **


	2. Quirks and Observations

**Translations are listed at the bottom. Yeah, I'm writing the Russian out phonetically because I don't feel like copy/pasting Russian letters in the story. And that way you can read them out. I used Google Translate, and sometimes that can be a little weird, so forgive me if it's not quite correct. **

**Miss. Norman is based off of my math teacher. She's ridiculous. I hate her. **

**Mello POV**

"You've been eating with us more, Mellsy," Beyond observes in his usual cackle. I glare at him.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Call me that again and your jam will go from that jar to the floor."

He snatches his sweet strawberry goo from the table. "I'm saying that a week ago, you hardly ever bothered to eat with us, but you've been here every day for the past four days."

I roll my eyes. "Why do you care?"

"I don't."

This is so typical of him. He's always bitching around. I feel sorry for Lawliet; he has to _live _with this psycho jam lover. I'll place bets on him becoming a murderer. Then I could catch him and shut him up once and for all.

Of course, Near would probably beat me to it by about one second.

The only reason why I'm sitting around with them is because Matt eats with them. I actually _like _Matt. He's funny in a dry, sarcastic way, and he's smart. If he actually cared about school, which he obviously doesn't, he could probably catch up to me… And Near. But for some reason, he doesn't seem to put even half a cent of effort into his work.

And now that I hang around him, no one dares to bother him again. When I came around the corner of the hall and saw him shoved up against the lockers by Kevin (the bastard), I saw real panic in his eyes. He seems used to getting kicked around, but he doesn't like it.

I don't really know _why _I like Matt so much, but he's nice to be around. He doesn't cringe away when I come into the room, and he doesn't seem to mind my temper, which I admit is unstable, to say the least.

People are shocked, really. I suppose I seem pretty unapproachable, and for Matt to almost instantly befriend me is a bit out of the ordinary. I have a fierce reputation, after all.

It's been a week since Matt and Misa joined us, and they fell in rather quickly. Misa is constantly getting followed around by hopeful guys but it's pretty obvious that she only has eyes for the grand prize: Light.

And Light is kind of unattainable, at least so far.

The girls are also starting to find interest in Matt, which provides a lot of entertainment for me because he obviously has no interest in any of them and would love to just be left alone. He doesn't want to hear how his accent is "so adorable". It's hilarious no matter how you look at it.

Misa yammers on to Light, who looks mildly curious of what she has to say… at the most. Misa is nice, but she's also annoying, clingy, and not the brightest bulb in the box. More like the dullest.

I find myself watching Matt attack the buttons on his Gameboy, probably fighting some boss or something. It because immediately obvious to me that he could spend all day and all night playing and not notice the time go by.

Matt seems typical enough, but there are little things that throw me off, like his aversion to physical contact or that he seems to downplay his intelligence. Matt is shy, but it seems to be more than that.

Misa seems mindful of this too. Although she too seems to have a bit of a problem with too much touching, she's far more social than Matt. Matt seems to cringe away from any form of physical contact between him and people, just isn't super social in general, and Misa jumps at sudden movements in her direction. I would be interested in finding out why.

. . .

I'm jerked out of my studying by a soft rap on my door.

"Yes?" I ask, somewhat irritably, forgetting that no one in this house speaks English besides me. _If I keep getting distracted, I'm never going to get better than Near. _

"Mihael, eto uzhin," Baba's raspy voice comes from behind my closed door.

"Khorosho, odin moment," I call back to here. I hear her soft footsteps leading away from my door, and sigh. Baba can't speak a word of English, never bothering to learn the language of her daughter's husband due to the fact that she hated him. Of course, now that they're both gone she's the one taking care of me, although I do most of the care giving.

She is old and frail, and I have a feeling I won't have her around much longer.

I scoot my chair back and leave my room, casting one last look at my open textbook before re-closing the door and walking down the hall to join Baba in the kitchen. I stand in the doorway, watching her for a moment. One of her two tabby cats, Aleksei, winds its way around my legs, purring for food.

Baba has her grey hair pulled back into a tight bun to keep it away from her face while she cooks. She moves slowly through the kitchen, hobbling around in her apron. I walk over to the cupboard and pull out some plates. I set them on the counter as she gingerly takes a knife and proceeds to slowly cut with a shaky but well-practiced hand.

"Budʹte ostorozhny," I say, watching the blade warily.

She doesn't even glance at me. "Ya vsegda ostorozhen, Mihael."

"Hm." I let her finish up her cooking and set the table for the two of us. I bring the food to the table and set it down for Baba, who follows slowly. Everything about her is slow now. She is old, and she grows weaker with every passing day. I love my grandmother, and I do not want to give her up. She is the one who taught the younger me how to feel things like compassion and sympathy after I thought I had permanently lost touch with such feelings.

But as she keeps saying nowadays, everyone has their time, and all time ends eventually.

. . .

Matt sighs quietly, glaring at the test in front of him. His pen hovers over the page, and I _know _he knows the answer to these problems, because this is really easy. What I don't know is why he looks so indecisive.

His hesitation only lasts for a few seconds, though, before he goes on and starts answering the questions. The funny thing is, he marks a few of them wrong. The harder ones, sure, but he doesn't really think about it very much, just picks one that is definitely wrong.

I'm almost _sure _that he's doing it on purpose.

I return my attention to my test, which I'm over halfway done with. There isn't a question on here that I don't get, so I just have to be careful not to make a stupid error. Even if it means going a little slower than usual, if Near beats me on this I'll go insane.

The stupid little sheep always beats me in nearly everything but PE, but he doesn't deem that important, as it doesn't "affect one's intelligence". I'm tired of being second in our grade. Lawliet is pretty much the best in the school, with Near in second and me third if you don't bother with year.

I'm done in ten minuets, maybe a little less, and decide to spend the remaining thirty minuets of class watching Matt, who seems to care less about the test. I can tell when he's actually working on the problem in his head, and when he's just marking some random answer. _Is he just lazy? No, that doesn't seem to be the case, It's almost like he's picking and choosing which problems to get wrong. I know him enough to safely say that he should be capable of solving these. Is he just pretending not to be smart? When I talk to him, I would swear that he's not just an average student. So why does he do this? _

Matt is a bit odd, not in a bad way, but he has some quirks. Like his orange goggles and that he is nearly always buried in a video game. Not that I'm unused to oddities; being friends with people like Lawliet and Beyond I see no end of weird habits. But Matt is also secretive. Not overly so, but he doesn't talk much, and he doesn't go into details about where he came from. All he tells people is "Seattle, Washington", or "America", and he doesn't answer a lot of questions about what America is like, much to a lot of people's disappointment.

Matt slouches in his seat, setting his pen down and stopping it from rolling off the desk with a finger. His goggles cover his eyes, and I've noticed that when he wears them it makes it difficult to see his eyes, let alone read the emotion in them. He pulls his Gameboy from his pocket and starts playing under the table.

"Um, time's up. Please pass your papers forward to the front of the room," Miss. Norman says instructs us. Miss. Norman is practically afraid of her students, and she's a horrible teacher. She can't explain anything in a half-decent way, and acts as if she doesn't really want to be there. Her room is messy and unorganized, and she gives us useless papers that we never even look at. She apologizes for everything and acts as if she has no self-confidence. It's no wonder that her students are always going to the smarter kids, namely Near, for help. They would probably come to me too if I didn't kill them when they get too close.

I get annoyed easily.

I take the papers from the girl behind me, Linda, and slip mine below hers. Doodles litter the margins of her paper, mostly semi-realistic flowers and cute animals.

I roll my eyes. This is so typical f the artistic girl. I pass the tests to the boy in front of me and turn to Matt.

"How do you think you did?" I ask, pretending to just be mildly curious. In reality, I'm testing to see what he'll say.

He shrugs. "I don't know. I probably got a B or something. What do you think you got?"

"I usually get over ninety-five percent," I glance at Near. "Of course, the little sheep manages to beat me pretty much every time."

"Surely you've bested him _once?" _Matt smirks.

I snort. "Well, of course I have! But when he doesn't beat me by one millionth of a point, it's usually a tie."

"Oh." He returns his console to his pocket. "Aren't you like, third in the school and second for our grade?"

I nod. "Why?"

"That's just what I heard. I'm new here, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah." Miss. Norman is shuffling all the papers into one big stack, hastily straightened and placed on her desk where it will probably sit for a few days before she remembers to grade it. Her class is easy to pass, but she doesn't teach you anything.

You just have to write a bunch of numbers down. And as long as it _looks _similar to what you were actually supposed to do, she doesn't check it.

"Okay, so for the next week…" I drown her out and let my mind wander. I already know all of this. It's too easy, and anything I don't get I have my textbook and the Internet for.

For the next five minuets she introduces our new focus and blah, blah, blah. I couldn't be happier when the bell rings and I have my next class, PE, also with Matt.

I like PE mostly because I get to go outside and get away from the confinements of the school building. School is boring, and it's nice to just run around for a while.

Mrs. Merritt is one of my favorite teachers. She's not afraid to make fun of the students, often making subtle dirty jokes and chatting causally with teachers and students alike. But she's dead serious when it comes to physical education. She even runs with us.

"We're starting the basketball unit today. Just to make sure that everyone knows how to play, I'm going to go over the rules and techniques. Have you all heard of B.E.E.F.?"

Apparently "beef" is an acronym for balance, eyes, elbows, and follow through. Mrs. Merritt runs through the rules and how to play before putting us into teams. My team is against Matt's.

Mrs. Merritt signals for each pair of teams to start playing on their courts, and within moments the sports star of our class, Eric, has the ball and is making his way over to the basket.

Of course we score.

Twice. In five minutes.

Linda has the ball now. She's not very athletic, but she's decent enough. She passes to Eric, who catches it despite being surrounded by people from the other team. He moves it around, dribbling it just out of their reach. He's about to move when suddenly he stops, looking down at his now empty hands. For a second everyone is confused, and then someone behind me calls,

"Get him!" I turn, but the ball is already going through the hoop. Matt smirks.

"You're going to have to move faster than that if you want to get me," he calls, bouncing the ball up and down.

It turns out Matt is wicked good at basketball, good enough to challenge Eric for his spot at the top fir this particular sport. In the next ten minuets, his team catches up to us.

It's funny, because before today Matt was okay in PE, but no better than passing. He's not the strongest person, but he's fast. And he can shoot. When Mrs. Merritt blows her whistle, Matt's team is ahead by two points, purely because of Matt.

Matt looks at home on the basketball court, and misses all of one shot. His shyness seems to disappear and it's only about getting the ball. That's what it looks like to me, at least.

"Man, you should think about joining the basketball team," Eric tells him after the game when Matt returns the ball to the cart and we start heading back to the locker rooms.

"You are a lot better at this than softball," I agree.

He scowls. "Softball is so boring."

Eric laughs. "I can't agree with you there, but you really should consider joining the team," he flashed Matt a super white smile before running off to join his jock friends.

"Are you going to join?"

Matt shakes his head. "It'd be nice, but no."

"Why?" I ask, surprised.

"No time," he says simply as if that explains everything.

"What do you mean, no time?" I demand.

He looks away. "I'm just busy." He doesn't elaborate, and I decide not to push it.

_Why does he tend to drop so many subjects like this? Anything to do with his life outside of school he won't go into detail about. Misa too. Are they hiding something?_

I push that thought away. It's not like I've known them for very long, so I can't come to conclusions like that. Still, I can't shake the feeling that Matt seems to be keeping something important to himself.

**Matt POV**

"How was school today?" Mother asks as we come in. She does that every day. It's part of the routine we've fallen into.

"Fine," I reply, using the same word as I have for the past two weeks.

"It was great!" Misa practically sings, dropping her bag and sitting at the table, preparing to tell Mother about the events of her school day.

I just retreat to the back yard with a cigarette, as usual.

My life has become one long scheduled event. Wake up, get dressed, eat, smoke, leave, go to school, come home, smoke, homework, hunt for a part-time job, stay up until one gaming because I can't sleep anyway.

There are about three times a day when I'm actually being Mail, not Matt. When I'm smoking, and when I'm lying in bed trying to fall asleep before my mind gets thinking. I always do end up running through everything during these times, though, because my mind rebels against the lie that is slowly becoming my life. It's a slow process, but I can feel it creeping in around me.

Mail doesn't exist here. Matt does. I left Mail back in the states. I left the broken shell that I was back there, only taking the memory with me. At least that's what was supposed to happen. Now the part of Mail that wasn't crushed and destroyed wants to be free to live his life, but that's not how the world works. No one gets everything they want. I thought I just wanted to get away from my father, but I realize now that my problems don't end there.

I'm too fucked up. My family is too fucked up. My life in general is too fucked up.

I thought leaving would set me at ease, but it's just made things harder. Sure, I don't have to worry how drunk my dad's going to be when I get home, or how hard he's going to hit me next time he gets angry. I don't have to stay away from people and be quiet the whole day at school to keep other people from being dragged into this.

But I have to be someone I'm not. I still have to hide. We're not even safe from our own relative yet, we're almost out of money, and we can't even risk getting too close too people or settling down.

I had hoped to leave behind the shadow that hangs over my life, and maybe put together all the pieces of my shattered hopes. But that is a lot farther off that I had hoped it would be, far enough to be considered illogical and unrealistic.

These are the happy thoughts running through my mind when I have a few minutes of nothing to do, when my mind wanders.

It's not that I don't like it here. After where I was, almost anything would be better. And the people I eat with, I guess I would call them my friends, are interesting, if not nice. School is fine, obviously I could be doing better if I wasn't trying to do worse that I usually would, but I have a solid line of B's and A minuses. And I like Mello, who is the closest to me there.

I don't like the girls fawning on me, but that I can deal with. My excuse is that I don't have the time for a relationship at the moment, and that I'm not all that interested in anything more than friendship. Neither of those are exactly lies, but neither is the complete truth.

I am actually a little pressed for time, because I have to get a job for after school, and there's stuff to do when Mother is at her job at some drugstore or something. And no only would it be a bad idea to get in a close relationship with someone, but I really am uninterested in those girls.

I'm not interested in girls in general.

Thankfully, I haven't actually been asked out or whatever, but some of those girls are flirting with me a lot. I guess it comes from being new and American. I'm interesting.

Mello seems to find the whole thing very funny. Of course he doesn't understand exactly _why _they bother me so much, but of course the only people who know are Mother, Misa, and my dad.

Dad _hates _me for that. I think that's what really made him _mad. _His son was pathetic enough, and he can't even be a _little_ normal.

I think that was the day I made the first of many thin lines that cross the insides of my forearms.

The smoke from my cig floats away on the light breeze as I snuff out the stub on the wall and go inside. I run into Mother standing in the hall, and she frowns.

"Matt, you smell like smoke."

"Yeah," I agree.

She sighs. "Matt, you really need to stop! It's so bad for you, what if you die?"

What _if _I die? So what? So nothing. My absence would only make things easier for everyone. No one would miss me for very long. Mother would accept it and move on. Misa would be sad, but she doesn't need to have me around.

Dad wouldn't give half a fuck if he ever found out.

"If I die, it'll be one less person for you to worry about."

Her expression hardens. "You are really willing to just throw away your life like that?"

I shrug. "It's not really my life anymore."

She looks confused. "What are you talking about? Of course it's your life, Matt!"

"Sure, whatever." I slip past her and enter my small room. There's a few gaming posters and a whole lot of mess and that's about it, besides a bed and a small desk we got at a garage sale. I sit at my desk and pull my homework from my backpack. I practically throw myself into it, almost desperately trying to erase the thoughts pounding nails into my head.

. . .

"Matt, you and Misa should come with us to the fair on Saturday," Sayu grins at me. I can practically feel Light rolling his eyes at his little sister.

I fake a smile. "Sorry, but I can't. Misa's free, though."

"Aww, why not?" she asks, tilting her head like a puppy.

"Mom wants me to work part-time, so I have stuff to do with that then."

"Oh, that sucks!" Sayu sighs, and then smiles at Misa. The two of them seem to have made and instant friendship.

"Well, since your brother can't come, do you still want to join us?"

Misa looks shocked at the idea of not coming because of me. "Of course!" she smiles at Light. "You're coming too?"

He shrugs. "I guess."

"I'll go if you do," Lawliet says, and Light smirks.

"Okay, I have to see that. I'll go." He leans across the table to get closer to Lawliet, grinning. "Beyond, you'll be in charge of keeping him away from the sweets until we get him on that one ride he hates, you know, that one that's all dark? "

Lawliet's eyes flash, but he doesn't say anything. Beyond cackles.

"The Midnight Rocket?" his mouth stretches into an evil grin. "I'll be happy to help."

"I hate both of you. You're seriously going to keep me away from the candy floss?"

Light laughs. "Payback, Lawliet."

"Light, you deserved that and you know it," Lawliet points a strawberry at him.

"Yeah, and you deserve this."

"Hey Mello, remember that bloke who thought you were a girl? He came up and tried to hit on you. You practically killed him!"

Mello scowls darkly. "I _remember, _Beyond," he says icily. I can't help but laugh. Mello is masculine enough, but he could definitely be mistaken for a girl. His hair and slim figure don't help the matter.

"I'd imagine that he had two black eyes and walks with a limp to this day," I snicker. Mello glares at me.

"Shut up, Matt." Light and Beyond crack up, while Lawliet remains absorbed in his fruit. Near doesn't even react.

Near could very possibly be a robot.

Mello doesn't seem to find this amusing at all, and I don't say anything lese on the subject.

"Near, are you coming too?" Misa asks. He shakes his head once.

"I have other obligations."

"Okay…" she says, looking at him a little funny before turning to Mello expectantly.

He also declines. "No."

"You're no fun! Why?" Sayu whines.

"I don't want to," he says bluntly. Mello isn't one to soften his words.

"It'll be fun," Beyond says with a devilish look.

"I'm sure it will be a _blast." _Mello's words are dripping with sarcasm. "I don't like fairs or carnivals or whatever. I have better stuff to do."

"Like what, studying?" Light mutters. Mello shoots him a look but doesn't say anything else.

"Fine, you three can be left alone while we go out and have some fun. But really, you need to get out and do something once and a while!" Sayu holds up her hands in defeat. Mello scowls and Near blinks for probably the first time in ten minutes.

Honestly, a fair does sound kind of fun. But can I have fun now? No, not where my life is.

. . .

"Right, I like having young people like you here, and we're understaffed, so I can honestly hire you right on the spot if you want," Sheryl, a young black woman with a kind of rebellious aura, informs me. The best option for a job I could find was at a coffee shop.

I've worked at a Starbucks before, so I have some experience with coffee. They're all over Seattle, because that just happens to be the "birthplace" of Starbucks coffee, so there is literally one on every corner. Knowing this is probably why Sheryl is so eager to hire me. I know how to work a coffee machine and deal with difficult customers.

"Uh, sure?" I agree uncertainly, and for a second she just stares at me before bursting out in loud laughter.

"I like you, kid. C'mere, I'll run things through you just to freshen up your memory." Sheryl leads me out of the back room which lead to the staff break room and an office into the main part of Cecil's Coffee. Apparently Cecil is her sister's name, who she co-owns it with. She starts running through the basics of taking and filling out orders, getting the coffee, et cetera.

"Just a warning, we often get visits from the bum who lives in the park across the street. All he usually wants is some napkins and a cup of water. As long as he leaves right after that it's okay, but I don't like him hanging around," Sheryl explains. I nod.

Sheryl is a bit eccentric. She's nice, but with her crazy hair held back by a red bandanna and large hoop earrings she has a kind of unique look. Under her apron she has a form-fitting black V-neck and blue jeans that are covered in rhinestones. She has a nose piercing, too.

And then there's her, although friendly, somewhat overwhelming personality. She's energetic, a little bossy, and reminds me of those stereotypical movie types.

"Alright, Matt, you got it?"

"Yeah, I think so." She beams at me.

"Good, now…" she looks around for a moment. "Alec!" she calls, motioning for a blonde boy my age to come over.

"What?" he asks, using the hand not holding a canister of whipped cream to push his hair out of his grey eyes. He nods to me. "Hey."

Before I can respond, Sheryl starts talking again.

"Right, this is Matt! He's new and I want you to help him today, okay? Great! Now I have to scram. See you!" she turns and runs through the door into the back rooms. I watch her go with mild surprise. I think she's had a bit too much caffeine.

I turn back to Alec, who is looking after her with raised eyebrows. "Well then." He faces me and smiles. "I'm Alec. Matt, right?"

"Yeah."

He chuckles. "I assume you're still a bit dazed. Everyone is after talking to her. That's why she needs Cecil around here, to keep her calm…er."

I smile. Alec seems completely natural and at ease, not like a lot of people I've had to work with before. "I think that running a coffee shop was probably not the best idea for someone who already has pure electricity running through their system."

"Exactly. So, Sheryl showed you around and stuff…" he seems a bit at loss for what he's supposed to be helping me with.

"I've worked at a coffee shop before, I know what to do," I assure him, and he looks a little relieved.

"Great, that means I won't be accidentally teaching you all the wrong stuff!" He goes back to the counter by the back of the room behind the ordering counter, where a box full of whipped cream sits, and I follow him.

"Here, you can help me put these in the fridge."

"Sure." I pull the canisters out and start sticking them into a refrigerator full of cream and other things to be kept cold.

"Are you from America?"

I nod. "Washington."

"Wow, that's far! Did you come here recently?"

"About two and a half weeks ago."

He leans on the counter, a hand on his hip. "You already landed a job? Lucky! I've lived here my whole life and it took me forever to get hired! It's kind of my fault, but still!"

"How is it your fault?" I ask, eager to move the conversation from myself. Alec sighs and continues pulling canisters from the box.

"I tend to make silly mistakes," he admits. "I have bloody rotten luck."

I laugh. "Yeah, I tend to screw things up too."

Alec laughs too. "At least I'm not the only one- oh, great, it's Hugh again," he grumbles.

"Hugh?"

"The bum from the park."

"Oh." Alec walks over to where a scraggly middle-aged man stands by the counter, very close to the wall as if hiding from the other customers.

"Hello, Hugh. What are you doing here? "

"I just want some water." His voice is gravelly.

"Right. Matt, could you grab him a cup of water?"

"Yeah, one moment." I walk over to a stack of clear cups and then to the sink. I fill it up and bring it back to Alec, who hands it to the man. He takes it and then makes his way to the door without a word.

Alec sighs sympathetically. "No one would hire him and he slowly ran out of money. He got evicted from his house a year ago. That's what he told me."

I nod, watching him through the windows. He looks like he's seen better days.

"People treat him like a dog, always kicking him around and throwing rocks at him. Someone beat him up once. The police put a stop to it, but he still gets treated like he's some animal nobody wants but they can't get rid of."

I can relate to every word of that.

Three hours later I say goodbye to Alec and head to the bus stop. As I wait for the bus, I let my mind wander.

Alec is nice. A bit clumsy, which became obvious after he dropped two cups of coffee in an hour, but nice. Sheryl and Cecil are nice too, and Alec was right about Sheryl needing her sister to balance out her energy. Cecil is much calmer and quieter, and not as bossy.

The people at school, my new friends, are what I would consider nice. They may act completely ridiculous, but they obviously care about each other. Well, I don't doubt that Mello hates Near; I think that is a mostly one-sided feeling spurred from jealousy.

Mello is my favorite person here. He's a real bitch, bit he is nice to talk to, and I can communicate with him without having to answer a bunch of stupid questions. He seems cold and unapproachable due to his temper, but I remain firmly convinced that there is more to the chocolate addict than that.

And there's something else about Mello, too. It hasn't been very long since I met him, but when I'm talking to him I feel like Matt kind of steps back and lets Mail show his face a bit, almost like they meld into one person.

But, of course, Matt is whom the people here know and always will know. I need to keep Mail, _me, _away from their eyes. And maybe it's better that way. If I let Matt get close to people and make friends, maybe I can pretend that my life is fine, and maybe I can keep Mail from being hurt.

Maybe I can just bury the real me in layers of defense, locking my emotions deep enough to keep them from bothering me so much.

**Translations:**

**Keep in mind that these are NOT perfect. A lot of languages have subtle changes depending on context and such, so things won't be exactly correct.**

Mihael, eto uzhin: Mihael, it's dinner.

Khorosho, odin moment: Okay, one moment.

Budʹte ostorozhny: Be careful.

Ya vsegda ostorozhen, Mihael: I'm always careful, Mihael.

**I'm pretty sure this was a disappointing second chapter. But I had to show things from Mello's POV, as well as reveal some new aspects on him and Matt. **

**HUGE THANK YOU to my awesome reviewers! Love you! **

**And just for the heck of it, here's a creepy Ryuk laugh: Kyah kyah kyah!**


	3. Nsync?

**I have never gotten so many reviews so quickly. I love you all. **

**Gah, I forgot to mention: This takes place in present-day so they have, like iPhones and modern tech stuff, okay? Just to make it easier. It isn't during the original timeframe, which wasn't THAT long ago but I want them to have the most modern tech stuff. **

**Sorry if that bothers anyone.**

**Matt POV**

Two months.

That's how long it's been since we got here.

For two months we've been free of the twisted man who ruled our every waking moment. For two months Mother, Mari, and I have been safe in our own home.

And for these two months I've been living a lie.

I have countless things to love about the last two months. I have friends, I have a job that isn't actually all that bad, I have my mother and cousin, and the last of the marks on my skin faded weeks ago. We have settled in nicely, not completely safe but in a lot better of a position than previously.

But it doesn't feel like _me _that has those things. It feels like someone else is living in my body, taken my place for the sake of appearances. I think my own family has forgotten that "Matt" is just an alias, a cover up. "Charlotte" and "Misa" are too. These identities are not real, and I'm the only one who seems to grasp that fact.

Matt is an average student. He is somewhat shy, sarcastic, patient, and isn't too serious about a lot of stuff. He's laid back. Matt is an avid gamer, and he has some quirks, but aside from that he's normal.

Mail is a cynical genius that doesn't give a crap about his schooling. Mail smokes, Mail is gay, Mail pretty much lives in a pixellated world. He hides from the world because he doesn't have a choice, and he hides because he doesn't know what else to do. He's alone. He's a kicked puppy on the streets that no-one wants. If he hadn't been treated like that, he may have come out as a completely different person.

But Matt and Mail are two very different people living in one mind. I think I've had a headache for the past five weeks straight.

"Where's that git gone off too this time?" Sheryl mutters, looking around for Alec.

"You sent him to stack up the new shipments in the storage room, remember?" I remind her, smirking at her forgetfulness.

Her eyes pop. "What? I sent him to do stacking? Oh that's just bloody great!" she turns around and hurries through the employees only door to fetch my clumsy coworker. I was wondering when her slip up was going to catch up to her.

I bend over the table I was about to clean before Sheryl interrupted me, sweeping the crumbs left by the previous customer away with a wet cloth. Cecil insists on having her cute/modern-looking café absolutely spotless.

The café really is typical of a coffee shop with couches and tables and displays of mugs and packaged coffee beans, but there are flowers and hanging plants places tastefully around the place. There's enough that watering them all takes a good twenty minutes.

"Alright, I get it! You don't want me stacking!" I turn as Alec is shoved back through the door, holding his hands up defensively. A few of the customers laugh. Alec is liked because of his friendly, easygoing personality, but he's well known because of his clumsiness.

"Did you knock anything over?" I tease.

"Yes," he grumbles, coming over to help me. "When Sheryl practically exploded into the room and scared the living daylights out of me."

I laugh. Laughing comes easily to Matt. Being friendly comes easily to Matt. Being happy comes easily to him, too.

I'm not so sure about Mail, though.

It really is unfair. I'm not one to wallow in self-pity, but my whole life I've been forced to do what someone else wants, and now that I've escaped that control, I have to be someone I'm not.

"It's not funny," Alec grumbles, but the smile on his face says otherwise. He pulls out the rag tucked into his back pocket and starts cleaning the tables I have yet to get to.

Life seems so easy for the people I now call friends. Everyone has issues and difficulties, some worse than others, but the people who surround me have the type of life I wish I did: relatively carefree, having fun on weekends and going to school during the week, and the difficulties that arise are usually fairly easy to deal with. They don't have much to hide or hide from.

But some people have it worse than I do, one example being the homeless man Hugh. At least I have a roof over my head and a little money in my pocket. At least I can lead a somewhat happy life, even if it's a lie. Some people don't even have lives.

I run my hand through my hair to clear my mind of the depressing thoughts that tend to creep up on me out of nowhere and move on to the next table.

The bell goes off, signaling the arrival of another customer. I look up automatically, and blink in surprise.

It's Misa and Light.

Misa has her arm hooked through Light's, and when she sees me she looks surprised.

"Hi Matt!" she calls cheerily, tugging Light over towards me. "I saw you from outside and had to come say hi!"

"Uh, hi Misa. Light." Light looks kind of bored. It appears that he finally gave in to Misa's obvious hints that she's been dropping pretty much since she met him.

"Hello, Matt."

"So, since when did you two decide to get together?" I ask, raising my eyebrows slightly. Misa blushes.

"Uh, Friday!" she giggles. "Is it really obvious?"

"Yes."

I honestly didn't think Light would start going out with my cousin, because it seems to _me _that he has quite a liking for Lawliet, but then, what do I know?

"Hey, who are you guys?" Alec asks, coming over with his rag in hand.

"This is Misa, my sister, and Light, my friend."

Misa smiles at him. "Who are you?"

"Alec."

"Nice to meet you!" Misa glances over her shoulder. "B and Mello are with us too. Don't ask me why, B sort of just tagged along and forced Mello to come." Misa started calling Beyond "B" a few weeks ago and it stuck, so now everyone uses it. She claimed that Beyond was awkward to say, and once Misa makes up her mind on something she doesn't change it.

"Mello's here?" I ask, suddenly a lot more interested. I lean around Misa to look out of the window, and spot Mello outside, standing next to B and looking very annoyed. I wave, and his mouth curves up in a small smile.

Misa nods. "He hasn't said much, I think he's mad at B."

"B told him that he was coming with us whether he liked it or not, because he was going to 'turn into a cave nerd' if he didn't," Light explains in a somewhat amused tone.

"Yeah, he's evil." I glance at the clock. It's eleven AM. I work the mornings on Saturdays. "You guys should go. I'll be done in an hour."

"We'll meet you here, okay?" Misa says quickly, already heading back towards the door. I don't think anyone can talk faster than her. "Bye Matt! See you!"

I watch her leave, feeling sorry for Light, before turning back to Alec.

"Your sister is, uh…" he looks at loss for words.

"Hyper? Insane? A major flirt?"

He sniggers. "Sure. We should probably get back to work before Sheryl starts freaking out again."

I nod and go back behind the counter to start serving customers. I honestly like working here. Sheryl, Cecil, and Alec are nice, and the other employees are too. Plus, I get an employee discount and the coffee here is really good.

The last hour of work goes quickly, and I go the back room to grab my vest and hang up my apron.

"Bye, Matt. See you Monday," Cecil smiles at me, and I nod to her. Cecil is a lot calmer than her sister. She has square glasses and her hair is in lots of small braids, all pulled back and held by a hair tie.

I wave goodbye to Alec and pull my vest on when I get outside. I decide to wait by the café, leaning against the wall. I kind of want a cigarette right now, but I don't have any on me. I haven't had one in a week, and Mother hopes to keep it that way. She tried, and succeeded, in making it so I no longer rely on the calming nicotine. Well, I feel the absence of it. It's not too good of a feeling, but she picked up some meds to help me and crap like that.

So I don't need them, but I sure as hell want them.

"Matt!" I turn at the sound of Misa's voice. She waves from down the sidewalk and I straighten out. I walk over to them, hands in my pockets.

"Hey," I greet them. Beyond gives me a thin, creepy smile from behind Light and Misa.

"Hi, Matt," Mello says, stepping closer to me.

"I'm shocked, Mello. How did B got you out here?" I tease. Mello scowls.

"He threatened to pour jam on my stuff the next chance he got, and after last time I really don't want to risk that."

Beyond cackles. "It was priceless. I waited until he forgot about it and then, _bam!" _He claps his hands together. "I got it all over his backpack!"

"Everything inside was ruined," Mello grumbles.

"I see." We start walking, Misa chatting loudly to Light. Mello and me fall behind a little bit, talking.

"I didn't know you worked at Cecil's," Mello admits, stuffing his hands into his black sweatshirt.

"Yeah, I worked at a coffee shop back in America, so I figured it was a good idea. And I like the people there. They have quite the… interesting staff."

Mello nods. "Yeah. They've got some killer coffee though."

"Seriously," I agree. I look up at the sky, which is grey and stormy. "I get this strange feeling that it's going to rain."

Mello glances upward. "Gee, I wonder why?"

"Come on you two, lets get to the bus before it starts pouring on our heads!" Light calls.

"Why, scared that a little water is going to ruin your looks, Light?" Beyond teases.

"Shut it, B," Light huffs when we catch up to them. We barely make it to the bus stop before the rain starts falling, slowly at first but quickly building in power and speed.

I shiver in the chilly air, thankful that the stop has a roof overhead. Mello stands next to me, muttering something about crappy whether. My hair is a bit damp, but other than that I'm dry.

I find myself perfectly content to wait for the bus in silence, just standing with Mello out of the rain. Something about him makes me feel like myself, or how I could have been if I didn't have the past I do.

It's not a bad thing.

**Mello POV**

Matt stares out the bus window as we drive down the rainy road back to our neighborhood. His goggles are pulled down over his eyes. I haven't ever seen his eyes without the orange lenses over them, but I think that they are blue or green. It's hard to tell what they really look like when they're visible from behind the lenses. The goggles make it impossible to read the emotions in his eyes, too.

I wish I could see his eyes. There's something that compels me to reach out and lift the goggles off of his face. I don't, of course, but I would like to.

Over the course of a couple of months, Matt seems to have settled in better. He acts a lot more comfortable now, although he's still a bit shy. When he gets asked questions about America and what life was like there by curious students, he closes off and gives them the shortest, most non-descriptive answers possible. I've learned not to press the subject.

Another thing Matt doesn't talk about is his home life. I know that he and Misa live with their mother, and that their father left them before Matt was born, but that's it. Neither of them talks about their family or what they do at home. I don't press that subject either, but I find it a bit intriguing.

I would love to know more about Matt. I like Matt a lot more than my other "friends", who I'm honestly not that close to. When I talk to Matt, everything kind of comes naturally and I don't have to actually take time to think of something to say. We've had some pretty weird conversations, but it's fun. Matt is intelligent, pretty much on the same level as I am, but he's nice to talk to, unlike Near.

I hate that little bastard.

"Matt, the next stop is the closet to our house," Misa says from the seat in front of us.

"It is for me, too," I say. "I didn't realize we lived so close."

Matt looks surprised. "I guess we wouldn't know, Misa and I walk while you, Mr. Big-shot, ride your awesome motor bike," he says in a teasing tone.

I roll my eyes. "I told you, that thing is old. It was my dad's. "

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

The bus stops and the three of us stand. Light and Beyond's houses are further from the school. Misa waves goodbye and we exit the bus into the rain, which has lightened considerably. Misa and Matt go to head right, me left.

"I guess I'll see you later then," Matt says, brushing his wet hair away.

"Yeah. Bye," I turn and walk in the direction of my house, glancing back over my shoulder. Matt and Misa are heading away from me. I haven't been over to that side very much, but I know that it's mostly smaller homes over there.

That's one more little piece of information on Matt that I file away to remember at a later date.

By the time I get home, I'm nearly drenched. I pull my key out of my pocket and open the door.

"Ya doma," I call, shutting the door behind me and looking around for any sign of my grandmother. "Baba?"

I don't get an answer, so I walk through the house, sticking my head in the kitchen, living room, and bathroom in hopes of finding her. I walk to the end of the hall and find her bedroom door ajar, so I push it open. Baba sits on her rocking chair, wrapped in a grey shawl with Kata on her lap. The cat purrs softly as Baba strokes her white and grey fur. My grandma's eyes are closed, and her hair is down. She looks so peaceful.

"Baba. Ya doma." She opens her eyes and looks at me.

"Mihael... Akh, ty vesʹ mokryy!" she exclaims, and pushes Kata off of her lap as she stands. Baba hurries over to me and pushes me back through the door and into the hall. "Poluchite, poluchite! Pereyti sushitʹsya!"

"Ladno, ladno! Ya ukhozhu, ya ukhozhu!" I protest, stepping out of her way. She points to my room as she walks by, her long hair swishing. I grab a towel from the bathroom and slip into my room to dry off and change into sweatpants and a t-shirt, something that I refuse to wear anywhere else but home when it's just Baba and me.

I rub my hair dry and drape the towel around my neck to catch the remaining water. I pull the majority of my damp hair back messily to keep it out of my face and tie it up.

I don't feel like doing much, so I just lie on my bed with a book, reading by the pale light that comes through my window. After a few minutes, Baba raps softly on my door.

"Chto eto takoye?"

The door opens and she comes in with a steaming mug. The smell of hot chocolate wafts in the room, and I smile.

"Spasibo," I murmur as she hands it to me.

"Vam ne kholodno?" I shake my head. "Ochenʹ khorosho." She turns and leaves my room, softly shutting the door behind her. I take a sip of the molten chocolate drink and set it on my nightstand. I soon lose myself in the pages of my book, brought into the story by vivid details and an intricate plot. I'll only read a book if it was written by someone with an acceptable amount of intellect, and that is usually apparent in the first few lines of their writing. Two hours pass, but I don't put the book down until I've read it start to finish.

. . .

There's a big crowd at the bulletin board by the front office after school, all struggling to get a look at the latest assessment results. Last week, the entire school took a test, and now the top ten from every grade and the top thirty in the school are listed on the board.

"Outta my way," I snap, and instantly a spot opens up for me. The noise dies down a little as I walk forward, until I'm close enough to scan the list for the entire school. I couldn't care less about the top ten for my grade; I know I'll either be first or second depending on where Near is, and this should tell me anyway.

First, as always, is a tie between Lawliet and Light. They almost always get the same score, and they always come in first. Second is…

Near.

"Fucking little sheep!" I growl, and there's instantly a few inches more space around me. People know to give me space when I'm bested by Near again.

In fourth is Beyond, but I'm still looking for Matt's name. He _has _to be on this list, he's practically smarter that Beyond. _Where is he? _I finally see his name. He's twenty-first. I _know _he's better than that. Why did he get that number? _Was he marking answers wrong on purpose? The test was pretty easy for me; it must've been for him too! I _know_ him well enough now…_

I turn around and stalk back to where Matt is waiting for me.

"Well?"

"Near got me again. Fucking sheep."

"So you're in third?"

"Yeah. Light and Lawliet tied first again, Near second, Beyond fourth. Funny, you got twenty-first. Pretty sure you're more like fourth or fifth, though." I watch him out of the corner of my eye, trying to gauge his reaction. He shrugs.

"I didn't expect to make that list. Unlike some people I know, I'm not a super genius."

"Right." _I'm pretty sure you are. _

Matt is absorbed in his game, as usual, as we walk towards the exit. I walked with Misa and Matt today, because my old motorbike was being difficult. Matt seems to have a sixth sense that keeps him from bumping into people and objects.

"Matt, put that away!" Misa scolds him, and he sighs. He doesn't put up a fight, though, and turns off his Gameboy.

"Fiiiine," he grumbles, keeping his hands in his pockets. Matt pouts at his sister, looking like a sulking little kid. It's childish, but kind of cute.

Right, moving on from weird thoughts.

Misa shivers. "It's chilly!"

Matt smirks. "That's why you need one of these, Misa. It's warm as hell."

Misa rolls her eyes. "Matt, that vest is weird."

"Actually, it's pronounced awe-some."

"Says the guy in stripes and orange goggles," I point out, teasing.

Matt laughs. "You're just jealous because I look frickin' hot in stripes. Only a master can pull them off," he jokes.

"In your _dreams_, Matt," I retort, but my eyes automatically flick over him. He really isn't bad. In fact he's got a pretty nice figure, from what I can tell. His vest covers his entire torso down to just below his hips.

I did not just check my friend out.

I shake my head slightly to clear it. _Stupid Matt. That was an automatic response to what you said. _Whatever. Misa's phone goes off, and she falls a bit behind us as we walk. I try to drown her yammering out, and when I succeed I realize Matt is absently humming a familiar tune. It takes me a minute to place it. It's not something I listen to regularly.

I frown and ask curiously, "Matt isn't that by Nsync or something?"

Matt stops humming. "Backstreet Boys, actually. Get Down," he corrects me automatically. Suddenly he blushes lightly and looks away. "Misa was listening to it."

I narrow my eyes, but shrug. I let him get a bit ahead of me before yanking the back pocket of his backpack open and snatching his iPod out.

"Hey, give that back!" Matt yelps, turning around and reaching for it. I hold it up, and because I'm a little taller than him, it's just out of his reach. I go to his artists, and start going through them. My face stretches into a smirk.

"I _knew _it!" I say triumphantly. "Nsync, Backstreet Boys, Britney Spears…" I start cracking up. "_Celine Dion?" _I hand his iPod back, and Matt glares at me, but he slowly breaks into a smile and shrugs somewhat sheepishly.

"Uh, guilty pleasure?" he suggests, laughing and putting his iPod away.

"Well, at least you have _some _good taste," I tease. "I saw Nickelback and Green Day on there too. And a _lot_ of video game titles."

"Okay, Backstreet Boys is _not _bad taste," Matt sniffs defiantly. I roll my eyes.

"Right." I glance at him for a moment, and we break out laughing again.

"Come on, boys! Hurry up!" Misa calls, one hand over her phone. We run to catch up to her, and she returns the phone to her ear. She walks fast even on the phone. She has that kind of model-walk you see in movies.

We get to the corner five minutes later, and Matt and Misa turn back towards their house.

"See you, Mellsy!" Matt says, an impish grin on his face as he uses the nickname I so hate.

"Shut up, Matt," I grumble. But somehow, the nickname doesn't annoy me as much coming from him.

"Sure thing, grumpy." I roll my eyes again and wave them off, turning on my heel in the direction of my home.

And that's when I realize I'm not even that mad about Near beating me. I didn't even have time to brood on it on the way here. I allow myself a small smile.

"Backstreet Boys," I chuckle. For some reason that escapes me, I find it hilarious.

**Okay. I absolutely HAD to put the thing with Matt's music in there. I HAD to. I thought it up before I even started writing this story and it made me laugh. I don't care if EVERYONE hates it I'm keeping it!**

**Translations**

Ya doma: I'm home

Baba. Ya doma: Baba. I'm home.

Mihael... Akh, ty vesʹ mokryy: Mihael... Ah, you're all wet!

Poluchite, poluchite! Pereyti sushitʹsya: Get, get! Go dry off

Ladno, ladno! Ya ukhozhu, ya ukhozhu: Okay, okay! I'm going, I'm going

Chto eto takoye: What is it

Spasibo: Thank you

Vam ne kholodno: Are you cold

Ochenʹ khorosho: Very well

**Matt: Seriously? **_**Britney Spears? **_**I hate you.**

**Cloudy: Love you too. Well, no because you and Mello belong together.**

**Mello: *****laughs* I never expected this from you, Matt.**

**Matt: It's not funny, actually. I would never listen to Nsync! Video game tunes yeah, but not Celine Dion and pother soppy crap like that!**

**Cloudy: How do YOU know that? You have all of five minutes in the anime and something like twelve panels in the manga, or so I've heard! And did you just call Backstreet Boys and Nsync soppy crap? *Glares with those menacing purple lines in the background, you know, the ones you see in anime and stuff when someone's mad or scared or something***

**Matt: Shut up, both of you.**

**Mello: Look who's grumpy now!**

**Cloudy: OMG Mello I just realized that I haven't been depicting you eating chocolate enough! Gasp!**

**Mello: HOW AM I EVEN LAUGHING THEN? **

***Bzzzzzzt* we are experiencing technical difficulties here at Live Action Rambling (L.A.R.). Our sincerest apologies. **


	4. Barriers

**I decided I needed creative/interesting chapter titles. So yeah.**

**FYI not every chapter will have both Mello and Matt POV and they won't always get an even amount of time. Deal. **

**Mello POV**

I shrug and Misa pouts. "But please Mello? Light won't come over unless you do too!" I raise an eyebrow, and judging by Light's expression I'm right.

"I told you that I'd go over to your house, Misa, I never set any conditions," Light reminds her.

"That's' what I thought. Why do you want me to come over so bad?" I demand. Misa purses her lips.

"Fine, if you want the truth… because I think you should! Besides, Matt will be there!"

I roll my eyes, leaning against the school building. It's sunny, but cold. Misa has a pink and black scarf around her neck. "I know that."

Actually, going over to Matt's isn't anything I'm against. I just get the feeling that his family life is something he's not very eager to share. I definitely want to know why, just like I want the answer to everything else mysterious about him. He interests me, for some reason. I want to know everything about him. Maybe it's because Matt's the closest friend I've ever had. Is he?

"Misa, if you force him he's just going to sit there demanding chocolate the whole time," said boy informs her, coming up behind his sister. He glares at her before turning his gaze to the rest of us, now looking amused.

"Oh, uh, hi Matt! You were listening?" Misa sounds surprised. He rolls his eyes.

"Yes, I was listening. I'm right, you know."

I glare at him. "I will _not _sit there demanding chocolate!"

He smirks. "Sure you won't. Anyway, don't let Misa pull any of her tricks on you. She probably has hidden motives." He shoots a glare at his sister, and she giggles.

I put my hands on my hips. "It's not like I don't want to come over, it's just like Misa was trying to do something behind our backs."

Matt glowers at her again. I wonder why he seems so pissed at her. "Yeah, well, who knows what she has planned. But if you do want to come over, you can. It's not like I'm busy or anything today. I don't work Tuesdays."

I shrug. "I will if you want me to."

"As I said, I don't mind. So… sure, then." Matt flashes me a smile.

Misa squeals. "Yay! It'll be fun!"

"It's not like our house is an amusement park, Misa," Matt reminds her, There seems to be a double meaning to his words, because she grows serious for a moment.

"Matt-"

"I have to talk to you later, Misa. When you're not busy annoying Light," Matt jokes, but his voice has a faintly angry undertone. She gasps indignantly.

"I'm not annoying Light! Am I?" she asks him urgently.

"Uh, no…" Light assures her. She turns smugly to Matt.

"See?"

"Not much, at least," Light mutters, too quietly for his girlfriend to hear. I narrow my eyes, watching his flick away from our group and back. I follow his gaze and see Lawliet, who is holding a lollipop and watching as Beyond catches up to him. Ha, wouldn't it be a shocker if Light had a thing for the black haired genius. I can't say I'd be very surprised. Their exact relationship is unclear, but they're pretty close friends. "Friends".

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Matt waves her off. "I guess you should just walk all the way back with us, then." I nod in response. I walked with Matt and Misa again. It's slower than taking my bike, but I like talking to Matt. Besides, I haven't gotten around to fixing my bike yet.

"Right." I shiver as a cold gust of wind blows past us, but I don't really mind the cold. I love Winter, it reminds me of Russia.

"Ugh, I'm cold, let's go!" Misa says, pulling her jacket tighter around her. The leaves on the trees are starting to fall off. I like the red and orange tones they fade through before they die, but I prefer to see the branches covered in snow. We start walking, Misa chattering away to Light (she never shuts up. Ever. It's probably against her religion) while Matt and me fall behind them a bit in effort to drown out her voice.

Matt is oddly quiet. He seems to have something bothering him, judging from his silence.

"What's wrong?" I ask curiously, stopping for a moment to adjust the strap of my backpack.

He shakes his head. "Oh, nothing, just thinking." A leaf from the tree overhead falls next to him with a soft tap.

I nod, and we start walking again. It isn't long before we reach the corner, but instead of turning towards my house I turn right with Matt and let him lead. The houses on this side are smaller and simple, but nice. The yards her aren't as well kept as they are in other areas, but the differences are, overall, subtle. I've never been down this side, but it's laid out in pretty much the same way.

Misa waits for us at a corner, and we turn left down another street. We don't walk far before Misa and Matt stop again in front of beige house. Misa hasn't stopped talking for more than thirty seconds on the way over, constantly chatting with Light. Well, not exactly with, because she hardly gets a single word in before she starts up again.

"We're home!" she calls, opening the white door.

"Oh, good! Matt, Misa, can you…" a thin woman pops her head into the hall, and her voice trails off when she sees us. Her dark hair is greying, but she looks like she can't be older than her late thirties.

"Well, hello there. I wasn't expecting you two to bring people over today." She walks into the hall, wearing simple jeans and a t-shirt.

Matt jerks his thumb at Misa. "_She _insisted on bringing her boyfriend over, and apparently though Mello- this is Mello- had to come too." He gestures in my direction at the mention of my name.

"Oh, you must be Light then!" Ms. Carters smiles at Light.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Light replies, one of his award-winning smiles plastered on his face.

"I've heard a lot about you…" she glances at Misa, then turns her attention to me. "And your name was?"

"Mello." I pull the remaining half of my chocolate bar from my back pocket and snap off a bite.

She smiles, looking between Matt and Misa again. "Well, I have the evening shift at the store tonight. I'll be back at nine, okay?"

"Yeah, it's fine," Matt assures her. "And yes, the house will still be standing. Promise." She smiles at him and disappears back into the room she came from.

"Light, come with me!" Misa says, pulling him by the arm. He glances at me as he's led down the hall, and I smirk.

"Good luck!" Matt calls after him, then turns to me. "I'm hungry, you?"

I shrug and follow Matt into the room his mother came from, the kitchen. It's a small, but clean white room with lots of natural light and a door that probably leads to a basement. Ms. Carters slips her purse over her shoulder.

"Alright, Matt, I'm going. And Matt…"

"Yeah?" he turns to her, a cookie in his mouth. He holds one out to me, and I take it.

She gives him a meaningful look. "Be good." There's heaviness to her words that I don't understand. Matt seems to, though. Because he narrows his eyes and nods.

"Alright, bye!" she smiles at me one last time and hurries out of the kitchen, muttering that she's late. Matt rolls his eyes at me when the door opens and closes.

"She's always worried that something's going to happen," he says like he's always dealing with an overprotective mum. But for some reason, it doesn't seem to be the whole story. I don't question it, though.

"Really? That sucks."

He shrugs. "Oh well. Come with me." He walks out of the kitchen with his backpack, and I follow. Four doors branch off the hall, one with a screen that leads to the back yard. Two doors are slightly open, the second on the left which closes off the loo and another, the first on the right, which Matt opens the rest of the way and enters. He throws his backpack on the floor, and I set mine down by the wall.

The entire room screams Matt. There are gaming posters on the blue walls, his bed is unmade, and his desk is mostly covered in gaming stuff and a stack of old CDs.

"You know, you've really made your presence in this room obvious," I inform him, and he laughs.

"Mother's always getting on me to clean up." He gestures vaguely to his bed, and I sit at the foot of it. He sits at his desk and moves the chair to face me at an angle. The drawer of his desk is half-open, and he frowns at it. He pulls something halfway out and raises his eyebrows slightly.

"Thought I was out…" he mutters.

"Huh?" I ask, and he quickly drops the object beck in the drawer and shut sit.

"It's nothing." He shrugs it off and grins at me. "Let's just be clear right now, it's not my fault if you get bored. You're the one who decided to come. There's not a lot to do around here, anyway." I laugh.

"Since when have I been bored around you? You're always doing something weird," I tease, resting my forearms on my knees. "It's always amusing to watch you fool around." He rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, right." He looks over at his door, which is still open by a few inches. "I wonder what Misa and Light are doing now?" he wonders meaningfully.

"Probably snogging in her room."

"I doubt that, Light's not one to do that. He's probably hoping we'll start a fire or something so he doesn't have to listen to her talk anymore."

I nod. "He doesn't seem very interested in your sister."

"Definitely not. I think he just got tired of pretending to be ignorant of her obvious hints. She kept dropping bombs everywhere, and it's kind of hard _not _to notice my sister."

"I'm sorry that you have to live with a chatterbox like her," I joke.

Matt nods thoughtfully. "She used to be quiet, you know. She was always your typical blonde, but she never used to talk so much. Not until a year or so ago, I think."

"Weird. Why is that?"

Matt shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe…" his mouth stays open for a few seconds, before he shuts it and looks away. "I don't know." Once again, I've hit another wall, which Matt has a lot of. It seems that _anything _to do with his or his families past throws one of his barriers up, especially his life before coming here. I'm compelled to break through these walls Matt has, again for some unknown reason. I don't have any real reasoning behind my curiosity on Matt. Despite that, I feel like I _have _to know about him. It's been a little over two months since he got here, and although that isn't very long, I feel like I know him through and through and like I've never met him for the first time all at once.

"Oh, whole we're on the subject, what's the deal between Light and Lawliet?" Matt cuts into my thoughts, a smirk on his face. "Because I have a feeling that whatever's going on between them may be why Light's not too in to my sister."

I smile. He's been thinking the same thing as me. "Yeah, I have a hunch that something's going on between them too. I mean, as far as I know they're just friends, but that's kind of hard to believe considering how close they are." I frown. "It's not that I have a problem with them being together or anything, but why would Light lead Misa on if he does in fact like Lawliet?"

Matt shrugs. "How should I know? Maybe he's worried about his image?"

"That would make sense. He_ is_ the most popular guy in school." I start laughing. "I would love to see the look on all the girls' faces if he turned out to be gay."

Matt laughs too at the picture I brought to mind. Suddenly he pauses. "Mello, we sound like a pair of girls." I crack up again.

"We do, you're right." Talking with Matt is nice. Although Light, Lawliet, and I guess Beyond are my friends (I hate Near, but he eats with the only people who I can kind of stand), I wouldn't say I'm very close to them. And everyone's afraid of me, because yes, I have angry tendencies. But Matt doesn't seem to care. Although he may be a bit odd (but then, who is?), he's funny and it's easy to talk to him. I've only known him for a couple months, but I already feel closer to him that I do to the others.

We do pretty much nothing but joke around for the next two hours, but I don't consider it a waste of time. Apparently Matt has every Backstreet Boys album ever released and several from Nsync (I seriously question more than his taste in fashion, although he does manage to pull off stripes… somewhat) and about a zillion plus video games and several consoles. Seriously, he has game sin every corner of the room, stacked by the walls and shoved in drawers along with numerous comic books. The closest thing he has to an actual book is a graphic novel. He's so typical of a gamer/geek it's hilarious.

And yet he's anything but typical. Something about him is _different. _He has too many walls up, so I can't actually get too far into stuff about him, but I can still get to know him more. He's an interesting person.

I don't blame him for having barriers around his life; I have plenty of my own, too. There's a lot that I don't want or need other people knowing, for various reasons. A lot of it is just painful to talk or even think about, so it's easier to just push it to the back of my mind and only let it bother me sometimes.

When Light appears in the doorway of Matt's room, I'm surprised that it's been a couple of hours already.

"Mello, it's almost four thirty, we should go," Light informs me. I blink, surprised.

"Already? Okay then." Matt and I both stand and walk out into the hall, me with my backpack. Misa has already started leading Light back to the door.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then," Matt says and Misa opens the door.

"Yeah, see you," I nod and step towards the door. Misa gives Light a hug and smiles.

"Thanks for coming over, you two! See you at school, Light!" she calls as we walk out of the small house.

"Bye, Misa," Light says, somewhat halfheartedly. She waves, the door nearly shut, and Matt rolls his eyes. He pushes the door all the way closed, and we are left alone in the late afternoon.

Light runs a hand through his hair and sighs. "It's so quiet," he notes. I laugh.

"Misa wearing your ears out, huh?" He smirks, but nods.

"She's sweet, but a bit chatty."

"I noticed. Well, I'll see you tomorrow too." Light nods and turns right towards his house, and I head straight.

As I walk home, my questions about Matt resurface, and I wonder if I'll ever break the walls around his life.

**Matt POV**

"Misa." I cross my arms and glare at her from across the kitchen.

She smiles innocently. "What Matt?"

I sigh, frustrated. "You know what. What were you thinking? Mother said not to do exactly what you did today: show people our life!"

She pouts. "You seemed happy to have Mello over! What are you getting mad about?"

True, I was happy to have Mello over. It was fun, I never thought otherwise. I do like Mello, and I want to be his friend, but that's beside the point. We're supposed to keep away from close relationships and keep our heads low. By having people over, we risk word getting out and reaching our father. "I was, but we're not necessarily safe yet! It's risky!"

Misa's entire being softens. "I know, Matt," she whispers.

"Mail. It's Mail, and you know that," I murmur. She shuts her eyes.

"I know. But Mail, I just want to have a normal life! We're finally free of everything, why can't we just live our lives?"

I lean against the counter next to her. "We can still live lives, but not ours. Our real lives aren't what we have here."

She looks at me. "Is that really what you think? That we are living lies?"

"For now, we are. Right now, we just need to keep things as they are, until we know for sure that Dad isn't coming after us, okay? You have to be Misa for a while still."

Mari frowns at me. "Aren't Misa and Mari the same person? They are to me."

I sigh. "They are, kind of. But there are differences. Mari is... an aspiring model with a past she is trying to escape. Misa is the sweet girl dating Light." I smile warily at her. "But I assure you, both of them are equally stupid."

She snorts. "Shut up, Mail." She tilts her head. "I honestly think they are the same person. A name doesn't change who you are. I mean, I definitely love Light, and my name doesn't change that!" She looks happy with that, so I decide just to agree with her.

"Yeah…" I change the subject. For a brief moment I talked to Mari, my cousin, as Mail. That moment ended. "Why were you so eager to get Mello here? I can't think of any good reason you'd have."

Misa giggles. "You don't know, Matt?" I blink at her, completely clueless. She smiles at me. "You're ignorant aren't you! Well, I just thought you and Mello are real close and that you'd like having him over!"

"Um, yeah, I guess," I mutter, still trying to figure out what she means… Oh.

"Yup, the two of you got close pretty quick, don't you think so too?" I glare at her coldly.

"I think you forget, _Misa, _that you're talking about Matt. Maybe Misa and Mari are one in the same, but Matt and Mail have plenty of differences," I snap. She looks at me, surprised.

"What…? Matt, I-"

I sigh. "Just forget it. Mello's my friend, okay?" I straighten up and walk out of the kitchen and back to my room, where I pull my homework out of my backpack and shove away a clear spot on my desk to work.

I guess I shouldn't have gotten mad at Misa like that. After all, what does she understand about all of this? What does she understand about me? She didn't mean any harm, but the meaning of her words still struck a sore spot. Because, no, I'm not able to live _my _life at the moment. I have to pretend to be someone I'm not, and what she's suggesting doesn't make anything easier for me. Maybe I'm just mad because I honestly don't know exactly what I feel.

Mello and Matt are friends. Mello knows Matt, Matt knows Mello, and that's as far as it goes. Mello doesn't know anything about who hides behind Matt, and because Mat tis just an alias, a fake, there's not really anything at all between Mello and both sides of me.

But does the illogical part of me think so? No. That part of me is convinced that I'm actually friends with Mello.

I hardly have any homework tonight, and it's incredibly easy. Well, it is for Mail. Matt misses a few problems. I sit around until hunger pulls me back into reality. I grab a TV dinner from the freezer and zap it for a few minutes. I don't even taste it, still absorbed in my game. I move on autopilot when I'm done with it to the trash and then back to my room.

"Matt, I'm back," Mother says from my doorway. I acknowledge her presence with a nod, but this time I'm pulled out of my games for good. I've got too many things running through my mind, random things that don't make much sense.

I pull my desk drawer open and shift things around until I find the pack of cigs that I thought I was out of. I stare at them for a second, wondering whether I should toss them or not. I don't, though. I just toss them into the back of the drawer and re-shut it. I don't know why I keep them, even though I probably shouldn't. I thought I had gotten rid of all of them, but guess not.

I just sit in my chair, staring off into space. I'm not really thinking, just zoning out. Bored with nothing to do, and for once not in the mood to game, I pull my clothes off and change into sweats and a t-shirt. I flick off my light and climb into my bed, surprised by how tired I am already, it being only ten. Usually I'm later than this.

It's not long till I fall asleep and slip away to my dreams.

. . .

The alarm cuts into my nightmares, slowly rousing me out of my sleep. When it finally does, I jump. The sun streams in through my window, bringing me back to reality. A startled whimper escapes my mouth, and I bring my knees closer to my chest. I've always had nightmares; I don't see how I could not have. But recently they've gotten worse. I think it's the anxiety that dad's going to find us again.

I wouldn't put it very far past him. He's a lazy bastard who doesn't like to have to support himself. He needs Mother to keep everything in his house together, Mari to make him money with her modeling, and me to take the brunt of his anger. He has a job at a car shop, or he did last time I saw him, but he likes to have other people do everything for him. And when someone messes up… it isn't pretty.

I sit up in my bed, and run a hand through my hair. _It was just a fucking dream. _The problem with saying that is that this dream could very possibly become reality.

If it indeed does happen, I doubt that I'll be in one piece afterwards. This will somehow be all my fault, wont it? If he finds us, I'll be the one to blame. And I suppose it's true. Even if it isn't, it might as well be, because everything's my fault. Even things I really can't control.

**Ew! I hate this chapter! It's so BORING! UGH! Why am I posting it? Because… it's all I have at the moment. I'm working on their relationship, so filler chapters with them just wasting time are kind of important. I know this one's not very good, but at least Mello got some insight on Matt's life, even if it's just a tiny bit!**

**And Mello's really interested in Matt, as in, he want's to know more about him. That's stage one of attraction, people! So yeah, that's proof that I'm getting there. Next chapter I'll have Matt start realizing things… Kyah kyah kyah!**

**Oh, things will pick up in about three chapters, maybe four? Maybe two? It depends. So just stick with me! **


	5. Cutting

** Matt is atheist and strongly believes that God is a bunch of banana split. I do not think this, though I am not religious. This is just the logical way Matt in my story would think, given his past. Please do not take offense at anything negative Matt says/thinks about religion. If you have problems with this, please PM me or don't read. I totally respect all religions and beliefs. **

**Matt POV**

It is mid October. So, in other words, it's fucking cold. I'm not super sensitive to cold weather, but that doesn't mean I like it. I've never liked snow, not since I was locked out in it overnight at age nine. I was already sick with a cold so I had hypothermia and a pretty nasty case of the flu after that. I almost got pneumonia. Almost.

It's a different story for Mello, though. He obviously _loves _the cold weather, and says he can't wait for it to snow. Forget all the pretty red and orange leaves; all he wants on the branches is crystallized water. But as I said, I don't like snow.

Okay, there are a lot of things I don't like. My very much pathetic self is one of them. But who cares anyway? No one, that's who.

I don't even know exactly who I am anymore. But whoever I am, Matt, Mail, or some weird mix of the two, I know I don't like him. I know there's not much he can do to fix himself or his life.

Of course, it could be worse. I could be Hugh.

The poor man is out on the streets in the cold, and he'll still be there when the rain turns to snow. His only source of warmth is his brief visits to the well-heated café to get his water, and a ragged coat.

The homeless man walks with a slow, shuffling gait. He looks defeated, like he's given up and is just living because he hasn't died yet. Hugh doesn't have anything left to live for, does he? No.

Do I have anything to live for? …Maybe. I must, because I'm still here, aren't I? I haven't snapped and blown myself away yet, so there must be something holding me back. Something keeping me here. I would sure love to know what that is so I can make use of it. Or get rid of it so I don't have to stick around anymore.

I'm such a positive person.

"Hey, Matt? Are you alright?"

I blink and turn to Alec, who is looking at me a little funny. "Uh… yeah? Why?"

Alec frowns. 'Well, you've been wiping the same spot for a good two minutes."

"Oh." I straighten up, pulling my cloth off of the table.

"Your answer sounded like a question. Are you sure you're okay?"

I force what hopefully looks like a convincing smile onto my face. "Yeah, I was just zoning out. Oops." Alec looks convinced.

"Anyway, Sheryl says she wants us to close up early today."

"Why?"

Alec shrugs. "She and Cecil probably have to hold a meeting or something. We'll see. Anyway, we have to get the last customers out by five forty-five." I work four to six on weekdays, not counting Tuesdays and Thursdays, and usually I'm working right down till six in the evening. We don't close up early very often, even just by fifteen minutes.

"Huh." We serve the last few people in the shop and announce that we're closing fifteen minutes early tonight. And by five forty, we've cleared everyone out of the café and turned the open sign off. The dozen or so other employees here today meet with us in the back room. There are some couches and a coffee table, several more plants, and a water cooler in this room. It's considered the staff/break room, but it doubles as a meeting room for the occasional night like this.

Sheryl and Cecil stand at one end of the room, Cecil holding a tray of sample cups with steam emitting from them. The staff stands in a semicircle before them and waits. When everyone has filed in, Sheryl opens her mouth.

"Okay! This meting is _not _our monthly one, because that comes at the start of the next month. No, this is to talk about the holidays!" Sheryl says excitedly.

Cory, a man of about twenty-five with spiky black hair, snorts. "Um, the holidays technically don't start until December, don't they?"

Sheryl rolls her eyes. "You're forgetting Halloween, Cory! Gosh! And after that there's the build up to winter, Christmas, and New Years! The end of the year is the busiest time! Plus, it's cold, so we get our best sales of hot coffee now! It's a lot of work, and this meeting is to talk about the nearest celebration: Halloween!"

Cecil steps forward. "For Halloween and October in general we always have different shaped cookies, decorations, and pumpkin stuff. We have the same recipes we've used for a few years now, but recently I came up with this new mix. I need you all to try it and tell me what you think, okay?"

There are murmurs and nods of consent, and the two sisters start passing out the samples.

"It is pumpkin, vanilla, nutmeg, ginger spice, and a secret ingredient that only I know!" Cecil informs us.

Sheryl passes me sample of the hot coffee. The steam carries the enticing smell of the drink, and I take a sip. It's an interesting blend with subtle hints of the different flavors, but it's not overwhelming. It's not as good as their infamous cinnamon coffee, but it is pretty close. The others seem to like it too.

"This is really good, Cecil!" Alec exclaims, and his words are met with several nods and murmurs of agreement.

"It's better than our current Pumpkin Spice, that's for sure," Alicia comments. Alicia, a thirty year old woman with dyed-red hair, has been here since Cecil and Sheryl opened the café four years ago. She's pretty much the veteran of Cecil's Coffee. If she likes something, it usually sticks.

Cecil beams. "I'm glad you all like it. I'm thinking we'll have a little stand with these samples and maybe two of you there to get feedback. Does anyone want to volunteer to do that?"

I raise my hand over my shoulder. "I will, if you want."

"Great," Sheryl approves. "Alec, why don't you help him with that too? And we can do rotations every couple of days or so. We'll do this for a week, and if we get good feedback we can make it an official flavor. Okay, next order of business: holidays! We understand that people are going to need time off for the holidays, and that you probably don't have it all planned out yet. But does anyone know when they'll be gone?"

A few people come forward with plans to go on a vacation or see relatives for a few weeks in December. I have no idea what I'll be doing, in all honesty.

Things could go two ways: either I'm doing exactly what I'm doing now, or Dad finds us and… I don't really know what would happen next if that happens. I know that we can't afford to go on a trip or anything over Christmas, so I'll be here.

The holidays have never been a time of happiness for me. When I was little, all I could think about during Thanksgiving was that I didn't have much to be thankful for. I never went out trick-or-treating or anything, and my family never celebrated Christmas. All of this was because of my dad. I remember hearing people at school, when I actually went, talk about their plans for the winter break, and afterwards yammer on and on about the fun they had and all that.

I remember one girl, Katie, who reminds me a bit of the girl in my math class Linda. She was the only person who bothered talking to me and befriending me. She was nice, but I had trouble with people. When I was little, other people scared me. I thought that they might hurt me like my father. That was before I knew that my father was one of the exclusively twisted bastards that exist in this world. But Katie would talk to me, even if I wasn't very responsive. I knew her for a few years, in elementary school. I remember, in second grade, she asked me what I was asking Santa for Christmas.

I said it didn't matter, because I wouldn't ever get anything anyway. I also told her that I didn't believe in "Santa".

She drew me a picture. She had talent even at that age. It depicted me in a field under a tree, and although I was alone, I looked happy. I was asleep in the shadow of the tree, and the colors were vibrant. It was a happy picture. That was the first time in my life that I had gotten a gift from someone, as simple as that. I loved it, because it was a window to another world. Of course, when my father found it he burned it. To fucking ashes.

I think Katie knew something was wrong, but she didn't know what to do. I don't blame her, because something is still wrong and I have no fucking idea how to deal with it. Because of my father, I didn't really get to be a kid. I was cut off, quiet, and lonely.

I also remember one class in fourth grade, also around the holidays. Our teacher was teaching us about religion and what not. All these empty words about some otherworldly "God" came out of her mouth. Not only did I find this ridiculous, but it made me angry, too. I didn't understand how people could put their faith in an _idea_ like this, and keep believing even when there are people who suffer unfairly and horribly in the world, and successful people who are actually fucking sick bastards.

Sheryl and Cecil cover a few more things before excusing us just after six. I put my apron away and grab my vest. It does a lovely job of keeping me warm as the weather cools. I wave goodbye to Alec and start towards the bus stop.

I was hopeful that starting over would make things easier, but I can't seem to forget myself.

. . .

Mello glowers at Near from across the table. If looks could kill, Near would be shredded down to a bloody mess and then completely obliterated from existence. As we get closer and closer to the semester finals, Mello gets more and more on edge. Mello is pretty much obsessed with beating Near. I guess I would be too if I was _always _in second place, and if I actually cared about school. I could easily be third or fourth on the list, without really trying, but that would be Mail and not Matt.

Pull Mello's chocolate out of his back pocket and wave it front of his face, trying to distract him. He snatches it out of my hand, but his glare turns to me. Mission accomplished. I smirk as he snaps off a bite with his teeth. Mello can't withstand the temptation of his preferred "drug". It seriously is a drug for him; he gets legit withdrawal symptoms. It turns him from a temperamental, easily annoyed teenager to a grumpy, easily infuriated bitch. Mello is seriously terrifying when he's mad, and I have a feeling no one's actually seen him go fully ballistic.

I've seen him angry, for the first time when he rescued me from Kevin's gang, and other times when Near beats him again, and again, and when people point this out. If someone says or does something he doesn't like, they won't be eager to do it again.  
"Mello, relax, we still have almost two months before finals. You should lighten up a bit."

"Shut up, Matt."

Beyond grins at me. "It's no use, Matt. Trust me, at the end of the year you'll be looking back on this fondly."

"Lovely," I groan.

"He's like a girl with PMS before testing. And after, when Near gets first in his grade… again."

Mello snarls at Beyond, "I told you to drop that joke, B!"

Beyond cackles. "It's funny, Mellsy, because it's true!"

"Yeah, it's fucking hilarious."

I bite back my laughter, but I can't help but crack a smile. I've found it to be extremely amusing when Mello's angry. His face flushes a little and he looks ready to rip someone's head off when he's _really _pissed, usually at Near or Beyond. I've noticed that I'm one of the two people who truly escape his "wrath". The only other person is Lawliet.

"Have any of you seen Light yet?" Misa asks, worried. Light hasn't shown up yet. Neither has Lawliet.

"He and Lawliet are probably making out behind the school building," Mello mutters under his breath, and I only I hear.

I smirk, but I'm a bit worried. Misa obviously really likes Light and whatnot, but what if Light is leading her on? I don't want my cousin/sister to be hurt. It would just be perfect if Light turned out to be cheating on Misa… with a guy. I don't think she'd be too happy.

It's not like Misa has a problem with homosexuals (take me for example. And the fact that her real reason for trying to force Mello over is because she thinks there's potentially something between us, or whatever crap she's come up with.), but would she be happy to discover her boyfriend kissing someone else, especially another male, and especially oddball Lawliet? No. But I'm not jumping to conclusions on their real relationship.

What Misa did really bothered me. Why would she think there is _anything _more than friendship between us? No, not us, between him and Matt. But that's beside the point. The point is, nothing more than friendship exists between us.

The thing is…the more I think about it, the less I'm sure of what it is I really think about Mello. I don't like him at all like _that…_ right? I've known him for hardly three months, how could I be questioning anything like this? Of course he's just a friend, not even remotely_ close_ to anything more! I'm just being stupid. And even if I did actually end up liking him or anything, it would be pointless because I can't exactly have a relationship at the moment and oh, by the way, Mello's straight, thank you very much.

But I don't have "feelings" or whatever for the chocolate addict. Not even close. We're fucking friends, and it's just Misa getting to me.

We are friends. Well, Matt and Mello are. I find myself wondering what Mello would think of me if he found out the truth, discovered that Matt is just an alias. He would probably hate me or something. Everyone probably would. After all, who wouldn't hate someone who's been lying to them since they met? And what is there to like about a gay, depressed gamer who can't fix himself or his life? Let's add that he smokes and that he's kind of fucked up in general. Not a lot of people like that type of person. They give off an aura of negativity that most people naturally avoid.

. . .

Mother and Misa have long since fallen asleep. I'm not surprised, it's after midnight after all. Even if it wasn't this late, they don't use the hall bathroom very much. They use the one in the master bed for their showers and such. It's nice, considering that I am a guy and I do need my space. Sharing a bathroom with two females would not be the enjoyable thing to do.

The hall bathroom is small, with blue walls, a sink built into the counter, and a bathtub/shower. The wall over the counter is all mirrors, reflecting the room and its contents. I'm sitting on the counter, one leg over the edge and the other knee brought up by my chest. My back is facing the mirror; I've already spent long enough staring angrily at myself in it. My goggles and shirt lie on the floor, and in my hands I have my razor.

I keep turning it over, just watching the light reflect off of it. I haven't actually brought the blade to my skin since… right before we got here. Because things actually got a little better for a while. But now… my life is slowly starting to descend again.

I'm probably the new definition of pathetic waste of space. I'm not helping by giving in to my depression, but honestly, inflicting pain on myself distracts me for a while, even if it's just a few seconds. It's numbing for a few moments, and it distracts me from everything else. I'm aware of the rather stupid scientific explanation (the release of endorphins), but I also know that it gives me a sense of what could be called _control _over my life, even just a bit. But mostly I like the distraction. Physical pain takes my mind off of the emotional pain, I guess.

But I haven't cut in months. Why should I now? So I can get addicted to another thing? Am I so desperate for the feeling usually given to me by cigarettes that I'll do this? Cutting _is _addictive, because you start to feed off of the momentary numbness, control, or whatever feeling you experience. It's hard to stop, because you always have the scars to remind yourself of your depression.

It's sad cycle. Despite this, I bring the blade to my arm anyway. The cold metal touches my skin, but I don't press it hard enough to draw blood. I stare at it for a moment, hesitant, before setting a hard scowl on my face and drawing the blade across my skin. I draw blood in an instant.

Does it hurt? Yes, that's the point. It has the desired effect; all I can focus on is the red blood welling up on my skin and the sting. I've created another cut, another thin line to join the others on my arm. It won't be permanent, unlike some of the other scars that will be there until I die and my body decays, but it will stay there for a few days.

I let the cut bleed. It's not very deep, and soon the sting fades to a less noticeable ache. It doesn't ooze blood for more than a few minutes, and as soon as it does I run my arm under water. I don't need blood getting anywhere. If Mother or Misa found out, they'd go all out on me. Mother can't even look at the scars on my arms without tearing up. I hate it. I don't want their fucking sympathy or sadness or whatever. I want to be fucking left alone.

I lean against the wall, sill sitting on the counter. I'm almost tempted to make another cut, but I don't. I just stare at a spider crawling across the wall. _Look at me. Pathetic. What happened to trying at another life, huh? Am I just going to stay depressed like this and not do anything? If I tried I could probably fix a lot. _

Ha, who am I kidding? Fix anything? No, that's not going to happen. Even if I thought I had a chance at making things better, I would screw it all up somehow. I slip down from the counter and pick up my shirt and goggles from the floor. I take them, along with my razor, back to my room and shut the door. I carelessly toss my clothes to the floor and re-hide my blade. I turn my light off and flop onto my bed. I'm tired, but it takes a while before I can sleep, and even then my dreams haunt me.

When I wake up, I have an image from my last dream still burning in my mind: Mello.

** Sorry, I know this chapter was… iffy at best, and short. Most of this is just Matty being depressed. Which is important, but repetitive. Of course, he's beginning to have some confusing thoughts and stuff. **

** No, I'm not depressed. I never was. The cutting scene was NOT from experience. I know this chapter was mostly Matt being all depressed and calling himself pathetic, but at some point we needed a chapter where he starts falling back into depression, really deep this time. Yeah, he never recovered, but he got a bit better for a couple months there, yes? **

** So we're making slow progress. Oh, I have this absolutely AMAZING idea for a chapter, coming in about three to four chapters… AH IT'S GOING TO BE SO FUCKING PERFECT! I had this idea today and I literally screamed: OMG THIS IS GOLD! It will be a big move in the plot, so maybe two chapters! The fewer chapters it will take, though, the larger the skip from October to December will have to be… OH but I'm getting impatient ha-ha. I have such good IDEAS, I just need to get through the boring stuff first! **

** So now that I've got you wanting more (hopefully) with my promise of AWESOMENESS in a few chapters… maybe you can forgive me for these slow chapters? Although many of you don't seem to mind them too much, they bother me because I have trouble pacing myself. I just want to get to the good stuff! I'm so impatient with myself!**

** If you need an incentive to become interested in the bait: It revolves around Misa and Beyond being annoying… at Christmastime… kyah kyah kyah!**


	6. Random Thoughts

**FYI I love all of my reviewers! Thank all of you so much! Lots of encouragement and feedback! Yay!**

**Mello POV**

"_When _is it going to snow?" I mutter, looking up at the cloudy sky.

"You really hate waiting for it, don't you?" Matt observes, walking next to me. I nod.

"I like the winter. I like cold weather in general."

"Why?"

I lower my gaze from the clouds to my friend. "It reminds me of my home country, Russia," I say simply. Snow carries both bitter memories and sweet ones. Winter affects me in strange ways; one half of me adores it, and the other dreads it.

Matt tilts his head. "So you _aren't _from England, then." It's not a question, but a statement. I think he had already guessed as much.

"No, I spent my childhood in Russia. I moved here when I was ten." The leaves crunch under my feet.

"Ah."

"Matt doesn't like snow very much, do you?" Misa says, turning to look at us. Matt shakes his head, and I stare at him incredulously.

"How can you not like _snow?_" I demand. Matt chuckles at my expression.

"I don't hate it or anything, I just don't _love _it. I couldn't care less if it doesn't fall."

"Do you not like the cold or something?"

He shakes his head slowly. "No, it's not that."

I snort, exasperated. Summers are cool here, but I have been in stifling hot weather before, and it was not enjoyable in the slightest. I don't understand how some people can stand living in that type of heat, year round in certain places. Ugh.

"Do you like snow, Misa?" I question. She smiles.

"Oh, I love it! Winter fashions are _so _adorable, and snow is an excuse to wear all sorts of cute coats and boots!" I stare at her.

"I think you're missing the point," Matt informs her. She frowns at him.

"What?"

I roll my eyes. "Never mind."

We walk for a few minutes in silence before Misa speaks again. "I think winter is lovely, especially Christmas." He voice has a surprisingly wistful tone to it. "All the lights and the cookies that people bake, and the little children running around and staring in the windows of toy stores." she sighs. "There's this whole feeling in the air, of excitement. Isn't there, Matt?" she looks back at her brother, who is looking down as he walks.

"I guess."

His voice has no emotion in it, which surprises me. Misa continues.

"There's magic about the holidays, I think. It's special, yes? The festivities all lead up to one night, one day, and then it fades away until the next year."

Matt looks up. "Yeah. The holidays are great. Anyway…" he lets his voice trail off. He sounds like the last thing he's thinking is that the holidays are anything close to great, but Misa doesn't seem to notice. She launches in to some story about shopping (I really think she needs to walk to school with Sayu and not us, because we don't give a shit about the purple top she saw at some store last weekend), but I drown her out.

"God, she's annoying," Matt mutters, throwing his sister a disbelieving look.

"I feel sorry for you, having to live with her and all," I joke. Matt smiles.

"Well, she's somewhat bearable at home…" suddenly the humor drops from his face and he frowns, troubled.

"Is something wrong?"

He blinks a few times, ridding his face of the expression. "Sorry…No, nothing's wrong." It's obvious to me that he's lying but I don't press for details.

There's a lot that Matt lies about. I realized that a few days ago. I only noticed because I'm around him so much, but he often seems to think something, or sees something that troubles him, and when I ask him what's bothering him, he just says nothing. He blows it off and drops it, and soon I forget about it. It's like he's trying to keep his whole life a secret.

Matt lies about his intelligence, I know that from talking to him and watching him work. Matt lies when he says nothing is wrong, because I can _see _when there's something not quite right. Matt doesn't talk about his home life unless he has to, and he never says a word about America. Misa is quiet about these things too, but Matt even more so. It bothers me, and more than that, it worries me. I'm not one to pry, but sometimes I think Matt and Misa are hiding something or from something.

I'm not totally innocent either, though. If I didn't have anything to hide or hide from, I would still be in Russia.

. . .

Matt yawns widely. "Ugh, I'm so tired," he complains, leaning his head in his hands. Miss. Norman's substitute has ultimately failed at keeping the class under control, considering that he lost the probably vague instructions that Miss. Norman left him. We have a period of literally nothing to do, so the class is being all loud and annoying. A few paper airplanes careen down and land on the floor, crumpling their noses. No one is sitting in his or her normal seat. Matt and I moved to the back of the room.

Matt does look exhausted. He's slouched over his desk, and he yawns every few minutes.

"How late were you up last night?"

"Uh…uh… maybe two? Three? I couldn't sleep. Maybe four."

"Why couldn't you sleep?"

He shrugs, fingers brushing over the inside of his left arm. "I don't know." He tugs at his sleeve, pulling it over his wrist. I've never seen Matt in anything but a long sleeved shirt. Stripes or not, he always wears long sleeves that cover past his wrists, just like he always wears his goggles.

"Well, I don't think anyone is going to notice if you sleep now," I say, looking over at Mr. Martin, who is sitting forlornly at Miss. Norman's desk. He's hopeless. Matt looks over at him too.

"You think so?" he mutters. "Well, we're not learning anything anyway. Wake me up when the bell rings, 'kay?"

"Sure, sleepyhead." He folds his right arm and puts his head down on it, but leaves his left arm slightly extended. We have another forty-five minutes of class to waste, and I'm going to make use of my time. I reach under the desk and pull out the textbook sitting on the rack beneath my chair. I open it to the chapter I'm on, a good four ahead of the class, and begin to study.

I'm not the only one. Near, of course, hasn't bothered to move. He stayed in his chair with one knee brought up to his chest, and has read the textbook since class started. I bury myself into the book, trying to absorb as much of the information as possible. I refuse to move on until I've mastered every concept in the chapter on hand, so I don't have to go back and review much.

I can study just fine when people are being loud and obnoxious, throwing things across the room and moving around, but not when they decide to purposely got on my nerves.

"Look and Mello and Near, they're studying."

"As usual. What do you expect?"

"I wonder who's ahead."

"Yeah, what chapter are they on?"

A few people shuffle over to Near, looking over at his book. He completely ignores them.

"Chapter eleven, lesson two!"

Fuck, I'm still on ten.

People are such idiots. They should know by now to leave me alone when I'm trying to fucking focus. Apparently, I haven't gotten that message across, because a few of the students walk over to me, peering over my shoulder to see what chapter I'm on.

"What're you on, huh Mello?"

"Unless you _want _to look like you've been hit in the face with a brick, I suggest you leave me alone," I growl, not bothering to look up.

"Chapter ten, lesson five!" announces one of the boys, Greg, quickly shuffling away from me.

"Nyuhh… Ow!" Matt exclaims, waking up as they back into him. "What the hell, man! I was asleep!"

The four students turn around, surprised to see Matt looking put off. He's known to be calm and hard to irritate. But he's rubbing his left arm, looking annoyed.

"Sorry, Matt," Astrid says sweetly. Matt rolls his eyes and sits up, crossing his arms on his desk.

"So… Near's still ahead, huh?" Oh yes, idiots surround me. Complete and utter gits. I've been around most of these people for years now; you'd think they would know me well enough to know not to say stuff like that around me. I shoot a death glare across the room at the boy who said that, and he squirms a little.

I return my attention to my studying until the bell rings. I got through the rest of lesson five and six, leaving only three more until I will be on chapter eleven. Matt was almost asleep when the period ended, so as we head out of the classroom he's not in the best of moods.

"You should go to sleep early tonight," I suggest.

"I'm going to. Thankfully it is Thursday so I don't have work." Matt sighs. "And now we have _PE._"

I laugh. "We're doing volleyball next, I think."

He grimaces. "Fuck. I suck shit at volleyball." He rubs his arm again, seemingly without thinking. "I mean, I'm okay at it I guess, but I don't like it very much."

"Why?"

He shrugs. "Just not my sport." That's a lie, too. There's a better reason than that.

"Oh. I don't like it a lot either, but it's not that bad."

"I'd rather just spend the period replaying Pokémon. I've beaten the Elite Four about six times now in Platinum. I'm stuck with my old games until I find the time to go get Black and White."

"How many versions of Pokémon do you even _have?" _

Matt grins. "A lot. The original games, like Red, Blue, Yellow, et cetera are harder to come by, but I have most of the third and fourth generations." He goes on like this, listing so many Pokémon game titles that I can hardly remember maybe half of them. I didn't even know there were this many versions of the game, and despite its popularity I think that the number is kind of ridiculous. Matt is a hardcore gamer, that much has been obvious to me for a while.

Matt talks about his games almost like he's lived in the worlds they take place in himself. I sometimes wonder if those worlds seem more real to him that the one he is actually living in.

. . .

"You know what would be _fun?" _Misa says as she plops her stuff down at our table. She smiles broadly at us. "We should go out this weekend!"

"Where do you want to go?" Light asks.

"Well, we could all go see a movie or something on Saturday… after Matt's work, maybe?"

"We should see a horror film," Beyond suggests, smiling creepily (that's his specialty).

Misa grimaces. "No, no! I hate scary movies!"

"We're not seeing a romantic comedy, Misa," Matt snorts.

"I know that. You boys can't sit through things like that," she pouts, sounding slightly disappointed.

"'How about you and Sayu go see some soppy film, and we go watch what we want to?" Light suggests. "We probably won't agree on anything at this rate, anyway."

Misa purses her lips. "Well, I suppose you're right. Then maybe after we should get lunch or something. Yeah, that sounds good!" She looks at the rest of us for confirmation, and she is rewarded with several nods.

Beyond turns to near and Lawliet, who have been quiet the whole time. "Are you two coming?"

"Yes," Lawliet replies, holding a gummy bear between his fingers. Near, however, shakes his head, which is just as well because I don't want to go around town with a sheep trailing after us.

"Near, you never go anywhere with us, you're no fun," Beyond grumbles. "Someday, I am going to get some bloody emotion out of you, I swear." Near just watches him with a bored expression, twirling a lock of white hair.

"You know, there's a lot of Halloween movies playing right now. We should go see one of those," Matt says, picking halfheartedly at his sandwich.

"That would be fitting," Lawliet agrees in a monotone.

"Well, Light or Misa, one of you can find Sayu and ask her to come with us so Misa has someone to watch her movie with and such. Light, are you going to go with Misa?"

Light thinks for a moment. "It depends… If the movie she chooses isn't too unbearable I might." His eyes flick over to Lawliet for a moment before returning to Misa. "We'll see."

Misa smiles. "Well then, I guess we can all meet outside Cecil's, then? We will meet up with Matt and then go see our movies, then get a late lunch." She sounds very satisfied with her plan. "I'm going to find Sayu!" she gets up with her bag and waves goodbye to Light before hurrying off into the sea of eating students.

"Nay ideas on what to see?" I ask Matt. He shrugs.

"Honestly, as long as it's not one of Misa's chick flicks, I couldn't care less." I laugh.

"Okay then. I guess we'll figure it out later." I get up to toss my trash, and Matt follows me with his half-eaten sandwich.

"Not hungry, huh?"

He shakes his head. "No, not really." Matt grabs his backpack and slips it over his shoulder. "Let's go, I have to stop by my locker."

I nod and follow him out of the cafeteria. Some short kid pushes past me, and I elbow him in the ribs.

"Hey! …Oh, sorry Mello."

I glare at him, but let him scurry off into the lunchroom. Matt smirks at me.

"You know, people are afraid of you. You're really intimidating."

"Yeah, and I'm easily pissed off too."

He laughs. "I've noticed, _Mellsy._"

I scowl at him. The idiotic nickname is annoying, but it's far less obnoxious from him. I'm a lot more tolerant with Matt than anyone else, besides Baba. Matt is a lot less annoying than most people, too.

"People tend to stare at me like I'm magical or something. They're always muttering things like, 'how the heck did _he _befriend Mello' and 'ugh, I'm so jealous! I wish Mello would talk to _me_ too!' Mind you, it's the girls who say the latter."

'Girls are fucking annoying."

"Agreed," Matt says. "Girls drive me insane. Always flirting shamelessly, it's really obnoxious."

Another, less amusing thought crosses my mind. I frown. "Why do you bring this up? Does the attention bother you or something?" Matt looks back at me, surprised.

"No, not at all. I mean, I'm not some super social person, but I don't mind it or anything. I was just pointing it out."

"Hmm." We stop at Matt's locker. My mind automatically runs through our conversation, with nothing else to do. Something a bit odd jumps out at me. What Matt said, "Girls drive me insane…" Well, that kind of explains why he hates being hit on. There's just the question of why girls annoy him. But that's pretty easy to answer. Most, not all but most, of the girls at our school are total flirts and are constantly starting and ending relationships. I wouldn't be surprised if one of these girls goes through two guys in a week. There are some nice girls here, but most of them are typical and obsessed with things like One Direction or whatever.

Obviously, I would never want to even consider a relationship with one of them. Actually, relationships and romance don't interest me very much. I've dated before, but it's always been a waste of time for me. I turn down any girl who gets the nerve to ask me (I don't yell in their face or anything, I'm nicer than that), and because of this there was a rumor going around last year that I was gay. Hah. When people don't get what they want they tend to resort to spreading lies created out of half-truths.

No, I'm _not _homosexual. If anything, I'm asexual. None of that interests me. Maybe if there was someone actually interesting and intelligent enough not to bore me to death that I could actually stand to be around, things might be different. But there's not, not really.

As soon as I think that, though, Matt pops into my head. It's random, but Matt fits all of that… _Uh, what the... Where the fuck did that come from? _I blink a few times to clear my head. That kind of blindsided me, I wasn't expecting _Matt _to come to mind as soon as my mind starts wandering over the topic of romance. It was random, totally random. I just hang around him a lot, and we're friends.

Stupid… something. Something must be behind this, because that is the most ridiculous, random thought that could pop into my mind.

. . .

Cecil's Coffee is all decked out for Halloween, with little pumpkins and other autumn-esque decorations set on the tables and around the café. When I open the door to go in, a blast of heated air washes over me.

Matt's friend, Alec, smiles at me from the rack of packaged coffee beans he is organizing. "Matt just went back to get his stuff; he should be out in a moment."

"M'kay, thanks." I lean against the wall by the door, waiting for Matt.

"Crap!" Alec yelps, and I whip my head in his direction. All the coffee on his side of the rack falls to the floor and skids away in different directions. His face is flushed, and the entire café has turned to look at him.

"Uh, sorry!" he mutters. I smirk and bend over to pick up a package that landed by my feet.

"Here." I hand him the coffee, trying not to laugh. "Clumsy, hmm?"

"Yes," he groans. "Ugh, if Sheryl comes out right now she's probably going to-"

"Go ballistic." We both look up at Matt, who looks on the verge of laughter as well. "Geez, Alec! How much are you going to knock over this week?"

Alec sighs. "I don't know, hopefully not much more." Matt smirks at him and picks up the bags of coffee by him. He places them on the rack and glances at the door behind the counter.

"Well, I would help you more, but I've got places to be."

"Yeah, it's fine, It'll only take me a second. See ya," Alec waves us away with his hands and continues picking up.

"Bye, Alec," Matt calls over his shoulder as we walk toward the door. When he opens it, Matt shivers. "Fuck it's cold!"

"It's not that bad," I mutter.

"Maybe to you." He pulls the collar of his vest up over his chin and sticks his hands in the pockets. "But I'm from a slightly warmer climate, here."

"Come on, the others are waiting for us at the cinema."

He nods, and we turn towards the cinema, walking past small shops and plenty of people. Misa, Light, Beyond, Sayu, and Lawliet are waiting for us outside. Beyond is going with Matt and I to see some random horror film. I don't even know what Misa and Sayu are dragging Light and Lawliet along to see.

"Good, you're here. Let's go," Misa announces, leading Light by the arm into the building. Our small group follows her into the heated building. Lawliet, of course, makes his way over to the concession stand as soon as we get our tickets.

The film is mildly scary, but very much predictable. A little girl finds a necklace in the attic one October, and she puts it on. She wears it for years, but every night on the full moon (typical) she blacks out and can't remember anything. The same night, someone always dies a very gruesome death. It goes on like this until they finally realize that the girl, now ten, is possessed by a demon that is attracted to the necklace. In the end, the girl is killed in hopes of killing the demon. It appears to be dead, but the necklace is still intact. Basically, the audience is left wondering if the demon is dead or not. It's typical of a horror film.

Matt is animatedly talking about the special effects. It was stereotypical movie, but it was well done. Matt finds the effects very interesting. He's such a nerd, mainly interested in the tech behind the production. It's kind of funny.

"You know, they did a damn good job if you ask me."

"It was too predictable," I disagree. "Good, but predictable."

"Have you ever watched a horror movie that _wasn't predictable? Only the originals weren't. This one was good!"_

Beyond cackles. "I liked it even if it was predictable. It was creepy enough."

"Yeah, and using a child was a _great _idea. That's going to go down well with parents," Matt says sarcastically. "Then again, parents don't let their kids watch horror movies. It's creepier with little children anyway."

"Aren't you pleasant," I snort, and mimic his voice, "I like watching little children kill parents with a knife!"

Matt stares at me. "Wow, you're pretty good with impersonations. Seriously, you could probably perfect that and do that for a living."

"That's not the type of career I had in mind."

"What _are _you interested in?"

"Crime and forensics."

Matt tilts his head, looking genuinely interested. "Cool. What got you into that?"

I shrug. "I just find it interesting. There's not a lot of things I find interesting or that actually grab my attention, but that is one, or two, of the few exceptions. And you… you want to do something with technology and as little people as possible, right?"

Matt smiles sheepishly. "Yeah, preferably for some game company. I could probably do pretty well in computer programming, but if all else fails I'll just become a hacker."

I raise an eyebrow. "You're kidding, right?"

He laughs. "Maybe!"

I roll my eyes. Misa, Light, Sayu, and Lawliet are already waiting for us by the entrance to the building.

"Hi there! How was your movie?" Misa waves at us.

"It was fine. The effects were great!" Matt informs her. "And how was your sob story?"

"Very girly," Light answers for her, looking relieved to be through with it. "There were a _lot _of couples there, and every single guy looked bored out of his mind."

Misa giggles. "Well, sorry, but I wanted you to come!"

"I don't see the point of going to a film with your partner. You don't even communicate during the entire two hours."

"Oh, hush Lawliet!" Misa pouts. "That's why we're going to go get lunch now. Come on, let's go. I'm hungry!"

We walk down the street, looking for a place to eat. We decide on a sandwich shop called Winchester Sandwiches (Matt comment very sarcastically on the name) at Sayu's suggestion.

"Well, they're certainly more creative with their sandwiches than with their name," Matt mutters as we walk out, after encountering a cheese and pickle option. Obviously no one got that one, instead opting for the more generic choices.

I laugh. "Honestly, it's kind of a pathetic attempt at mixing it up."

"Agreed."

"Come on, we're going over to the park!" Sayu says, pointing to the park down the street. We pass, along with the café Matt works at, a number of small, privately owned shops. This street is mostly devoted to self-owned stores, instead of chain businesses.

The trees at the park have lost almost all of their leaves, save a few dry stragglers that rattle in the wind. The grass is yellowing, but the park still looks nice. There are a few children running around on the playground, and a few people walking through the park, but there really aren't that many other people besides our small group.

Misa and Light go off down one of the paths that lead around the park, and Beyond drags Sayu off, probably trying to get her to join in on some trick of his. Matt sits down on a bench, and I sit beside him. He pulls his Gameboy from his pocket and turns it on.

"Do you ever leave home without that?" I ask, smirking.

"Nope."

"I thought so." We sit in comfortable silence and I let my gaze wander. I absent-mindedly turn the cross on my rosary over and over in my hands.

"What religion are you?' Matt asks a minute or two later, not looking up from his game.

"Catholic. Why?"

"Just curious. I noticed you always wear that rosary."

I nod. "It was my mother's."

"Oh."

"Are you religious?" For some reason, Matt doesn't seem like the type of person to bind himself to a religion like that.

He shakes his head. "I'm an atheist, I always have been. I don't have a problem with religion, I just don't agree with it."

I'm not surprised, but I'm curious to know why that is. "I get it. Still… most people who say they are atheist really just don't _know. _A lot of people on the other side of things do that too."

"I have never believed in a god or gods. If there was one…" he hesitates, and I notice that he's not focusing on his game anymore. "If there was one, things would be different."

_Great, another wall. I'm getting pretty tired of these. Matt is so closed off that he won't even explain his reasoning behind his beliefs? It's almost like someone or something is forcing him to keep quiet! Many people do this type of thing, keep to themselves, out of fear… Is that what he's doing? _"I see." In reality, I'm frustrated. I can't push Matt to tell me things he obviously doesn't want to share, but I really wish I knew why he's so closed up.

I wonder if I will ever get him to open up to me. For some reason, I really want that to happen. _I want Matt to trust me, _I realize. I watch him as he returns his attention to his game. What's even more frustrating than Matt's barriers is the fact that I don't know what drives me to find out more about him.

** Okay, this chapter. I like it more than I thought I would! Lots more Mello/Matt interaction than last time, and more of Mello's thoughts. I think they touched on some important topics in this chapter, and that they are a little closer because of it. I know this chapter isn't super exciting, but it moves the story along. And now, Mello is ALSO having SOME questions, yes? I'm taking things SLOWLY with this story, like a real relationship and not some sixth-grade two-day long "relationship". **


	7. Nightmares and Identity Issues

** This chapter is depressing and kind of poorly written, if you ask me. But, it's important, because THINGS are happening. For Matt. Yeah.**

**Matt POV**

I think I'm going a little crazy, stuck like this in my life. What's all that crap people say about how you're free to do what you want with your life? How you make your own choices? Bull shit. You can't do what you want when you fear, if not for your own safety, for the wellbeing of the few people close to you. You can't "live your life" when you have no choice but to pretend to be someone you're not.

You can't "live your life" when you hate that life, and you're stuck living out a lie, and you don't have a choice in which life you live, so either way, you're stuck.

I don't even know whom to call myself anymore. I'm not Matt, but I hate Mail. Mail is pathetic. Mail is worthless. Matt is a lie. I'm a person without an identity that I can actually use, that I want to have.

Ever since I was little I was told how "worthless" and "stupid" and what a mistake I was by my father. I was his punching bag, so to speak. And I think he's right.

Mail is a lost cause, deep in his own fucked up life. Matt isn't even real, he's just a fake identity created by Mail, so Mail is a fucking little liar too. Everything bad traces back to Mail, who is I, which proves everything my father ever said right.

And that is why I don't like Mail, but considering that Matt isn't real, I can't be him either. So what am I? A lie? A worthless, empty shell tossed aside into the shadows of the alleys, forgotten by everyone but myself?

So I don't really understand who I am anymore. All I can say for sure is that I'm pathetic, depressed, and a liar. And I'm scared.

I thought…I thought that this chance away from my dad would change things, and make things better. Sure, things would be difficult for a while, and I would have to pretend to be a different person, but I thought maybe that was better. After all, who would like Mail anyway?

That was how things were for about two, maybe two and a half months. I - no, Matt - made friends. I picked myself up a little and attempted to piece together a life from the scattered remains of a broken one. For a while, I succeeded.

And for a while, I could sleep.

I've had nightmares, horrible, _horrible _nightmares, for as long as I can remember. They actually went away for a while, a few weeks after we moved to Winchester. I was away from my father, and there was no way he could find us immediately. We were well hidden, and Matt had made "friends". Did my nightmares have a reason to continue? No.

But now they're back, as bad as when I was little, if not worse. And they're different each time, unpredictable. Sometimes, my father finds us again. If he did, I know things wouldn't be pretty. I'm scared of what would happen to Mother and Mari if that happens. I don't care very much what happens to Mail, after all, he's pretty much dead already anyway.

But there's other things too, things I don't understand. I'll just be standing here, all alone, with this horrible sense of dread. Other times, my less rational side creates the dreams. Our secret comes out, and somehow everything is revealed about Mari, Mother, and I. And I'm left alone.

The part that hurts about _those _dreams isn't everyone turning on us, even Mother and Mari leaving me to go hide somewhere else. No, the part that _hurts _is Mello.

Every time I have a nightmare like that, there is one thing that haunts me for days afterwards: _Mello _turning away from me, angry and disgusted. Mello is the only person I've ever been really _close _to (Mother and Mari are separate from that category of people), at least, the only person who is super close to Matt. Mail and Matt are closely linked, so they tend to feel similar things. Both of them feel genuine friendship towards the chocaholic, even though Mello doesn't even know Mail.

If Mello did know who I am… he would be angry, he would be disgusted at how pathetic Mail is. He would hate me, turn his back, and forget me. Just like _everyone else _who has ever seen Mail. Well, no one's really seen his entire personality, and if they did even Mother and Mari would be shocked.

They would probably agree with me. They would probably find Mail just as worthless as I do, as Dad did (or does), as everyone who has seen me fuck things up does. I fuck things up a lot. I was taught that when I was little, too. It's true, of course.

I'm slowly realizing that everything my father ever told me is true.

I thought I wasn't supposed to be close to people here. I thought I was supposed to keep people at a safe distance, maybe make some "friends", but no one close enough to have some of the nagging suspicions that have been popping up and running around in the back of my mind.

As if nightmares, confusion of my identity, and depression weren't enough, I'm dealing with something that I _really _hope is just me overreacting to myself.

That's what this is, isn't it? I'm so desperate to find something that I know for certain, that I can cling on to keep me here, that I'm creating fabricated feelings and thoughts. I'm seriously starting to doubt that I have anything left here worth struggling through all this crap for, and this is just an excuse created by the irrational side of me.

Although I've felt this before, and last time… Last time it wasn't just me desperate for something to hang onto. I knew who I was then, didn't I?

_I'm just being fucking stupid. _I glance longingly at the drawer where I _know _a pack of cigarettes lies unopened. I should have thrown them out so I wouldn't be tempted like this, but I know I'm not going to toss them. I'm not going to smoke them either… at least, not now.

I've already finished the homework. It's actually more work purposely missing them than just letting my mind run automatically, quickly solving everything I can and working through the difficult ones, if there are any.

I wish I didn't have to think so hard about everything.

"Matt, come eat diner with me!" Misa calls through my door, rapping lightly. I sigh, knowing that it would be pointless to even try and get out of it, and shut off my game. I don't want to prolong my eating with my "sister".

"Fine, just a sec."

Misa likes eating together. She used to do that with her family when she was little, before they decided that she wasn't the daughter they wanted. I never ate with my parents, in fact many nights I went without dinner. As I got older I would just eat some cereal or something; I never had a big appetite. A lot of times I really didn't feel like eating. I still don't.

Mother isn't usually here on evenings, so it's just Misa and me. Sometimes she makes me eat with her, and tonight is one of those times. I slip off of my bed and leave the open textbooks on it (I was supposed to be studying). Misa is already in the kitchen, and I walk across the cool floor towards the room.

I pour myself a bowl of cereal, which I eat a lot of, and sit at the table across from Misa, who has a salad. Always obsessing over her looks and weight, that girl. She started dieting when she first got into modeling. She's probably a size 00 or smaller.

"Matt…"

"Hm?"

"You're being really quiet lately, are you alright?" She looks slightly worried, but also curious.

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine." I attempt to end conversation by taking another bite of my cereal. I didn't even pay attention what I picked. I don't really care what I eat anymore, and things are starting to taste the same no matter what they are.

Unfortunately, food isn't going to stop Misa from talking. "And how are things with Mello?" She says this in a totally different way. All worry is gone from her tone, and she smiles "innocently".

I stare at her, my spoon raised halfway to my mouth. I wish I could say that I honestly have no idea what her actual point is, but because I know her so well, I do.

I feel a ghost of heat on my cheeks, and I frown at her. "The same. We're _friends."_ I stress the word, knowing what her intentions are.

She pouts, watching me suspiciously. "Really?"

"Yes." I continue eating, trying to ignore the thoughts running through my head. _God damn you, Misa. _"Why do you ask?"

She giggles. "Matt, you're so stupid, you know that? Can't you see what's right in front of you?" I don't answer her, and she sighs. "Oh well. I guess I'll just have to help you…" she winks at me. I roll my eyes, trying to cover my irritation.

"Friends"…is not a good definition for what Mello and I are. Mello knows someone by the name of Matt. Mello is friends with this person. But guess what? Matt is a lie. So there is not actually anything at all between Mello and I. I know Mello, at lest I think I do, but he doesn't know me.

Do I wish that Mello and I were actually friends or whatever it would be called? Yes. Do I think we could be? No. Why would Mello want to be around someone like Mail?

I know all of this, but it doesn't explain the things I keep thinking and feeling. It's slight, always tiny and forgettable, but it happens enough now that I _can't _ignore it…The jumpy feeling when he stands close, the blush when Misa hints at things like this, the constant thinking about him…

No, I'm being ridiculous. I'm just desperate for a lifeline, a light in the darkness of my life. There's no way any of this is genuine. No way that I'm actually starting to fucking crush on Mello. That is not what's happening here. I can't, anyway, and I know that very well.

Although, this was exactly how things felt the last time I actually found someone who cast a light on my dark world. Only _once _have I ever actually had feelings for someone. Only once was my heart broken by someone, and I want to keep it that way.

It's not like it was their fault. They were just trying to help me. But I didn't _care _what my bastard of a parent did to me, that didn't matter_…_

_No. Enough of this. _

I stand abruptly, picking up my half-finished bowl of cereal. I push my chair back and bring my bowl over to the sink.

"Matt?"

"I have work to do," I explain, before making my way out of the kitchen and back to my room. I don't actually have anything left to finish, but I need to think. Alone.

I have a lot to sort through, and a lot to try and forget.

. . .

"So, as you all know, semester finals are in a little less than a month. For some of you, I have no doubt that you will pass with top scores." Mr. Croft, the head of all this testing crap, looks pointedly over the crowd. "However, there are others who may wish to seek some help from their teachers during lunch or after school. I think you all know who you are."

He goes on to explain in detail what is expected and stuff, and how things will be twice as important at the end of the year. It's basically all stuff we already know, and I really wish I could pull my Gameboy from my pocket and zone in to Mario Kart.

When it ends about fifteen minutes after it starts, the classes start to regroup to return to their seventh period. I have English this period, another easy subject. Although I'm best at math and science because that is all computing and logic and testing, English is easy too. I already know most of the words we're supposed to know, and that kind of think. This is what I get for reading textbooks cover to cover at age seven. All I wanted was to make Dad happy, but it was pointless.

By the time we get back to class, there are only about twenty minutes of class left. They go by quickly, and soon I'm walking towards the entrance of the building.

"Hey Matt," Mello says, coming up from behind me. My stomach jumps at the sight of him, and I do my best to ignore it.

"Hi."

"For that history project we have, do you want to do it at my house?"

I sigh. "Why do we even have a project in the middle of the week? I mean, seriously, it's stupid."

Mello laughs. "I know, but we could probably finish it in a couple hours. I know you don't have to work today, so I thought it might be a good idea."

I nod. "Yeah, I'll just have Misa tell Mother."

Misa is waiting outside of the school, and when I tell her of our plans, she seems a little _too _happy to pass on the message and quite eager to leave us at the corner.

"By the way, my grandmother doesn't speak a lot, if any, English, so I'll translate anything important for you, okay?"

I blink, a bit surprised. "Okay, no problem."

The houses on this side of the neighborhood are slightly larger and nicer, but still relatively small. Not uncomfortably so, but very few of them have more than one story.

Mello turns at a grey house with a row of low bushes beneath the windows. He pulls out a key from his pocket and unlocks the door.

"Ya doma , ya privez kogo-to," Mello calls when he opens the door.

"Kto, Mihael?" _Mihael? Is that what his real name is? Mello is obviously a nickname, but I never did hear his actual name… _An elderly woman with an intricate shawl over her shoulders and a cat in her arms steps out from a doorway to the right. Her grey hair is fairly long, and her face is covered in wrinkles, but I can see the family resemblance.

"Moy droog, Matt," Mello answers her. "On ne vladeyet russkim yazykom. U nas yestʹ proyekt dlya raboty na."

"Ah." She nods and smiles at me. I return the gesture with a small smile of my own, and she turns back into the room she came from.

"That was my grandmother. I just told her who you are and why you're here. Are you hungry or anything?"

"Nah, I'm fine, thanks."

"Okay, come here then." He leads me past the doorway his grandmother came from, and I can see through it a kitchen and through that, a living room. A hall leads off to the right, and Mello leads me through that into his room.

In contrast to my bedroom, his is pretty much spotless. There are a few spots of clutter here and there, and his bed isn't made, but other than that everything is organized. He has textbooks lying open on his desk, and his pen is still lying out.

"Is there ever a time when you don't think about studying and school?" I ask, gesturing to his desk. "Or is that lovely assortment of academic material out all day, every day, three-hundred sixty-five days a year?"

He rolls his eyes, and answers me jokingly, "Yes, you'll be shocked to hear that there _is _a time when I'm not studying. It's called sleep."

I laugh. "You probably dream about math problems, don't you. Can't get enough of them, hmm?"

Mello laughs with me, pulling stuff from his backpack. I set mine down on the floor and take out the things I have for our project.

"So what exactly do we have to do?"

Mello holds up the assignment sheet. "We're supposed to write a biography type thing on our character from the movie we watched… You have your notes on… who do we have?"

"Allan Martin. Yeah, lemme find them."

We start working on the essay project. At one point, I get up to grab an eraser from Mello's desk, and my eyes fall on his math work. He keeps getting the wrong answer on this one problem… The issue jumps out at me, and I frown.

"Mello, I think you need to take more breaks and look over your problems later, because this isn't a one, it's a seven. It's throwing your whole equation off."

He looks up. "Huh?" I point at the problem on his paper, and he walks over.

"It's a seven. If you have seven, you'll get a completely different answer. I think… thirty-three. Yeah, that sounds right." I nod, satisfied, and hand him the paper. I grab the eraser off his desk and return to my spot on the floor. Mello is still staring at the paper, frowning slightly.

"You're right, it is thirty-three… Matt, how on earth did you figure that out? Miss. Norman isn't going to cover this until January."

I freeze. _Oh, shit, what did I just do? Fuck, I screwed up without even realizing it. _I don't meet his eyes, I focus on my paper. "Uh, I don't know…" I mumble.

"I spent forever on this, it was just a stupid mistake, but you figured it out so quickly…" Mello scowls at me. "You know, I've wanted to ask you this for a while. Why exactly do you _do _that?"

"Do what?" I mutter, still looking down at my paper.

"You're always marking the wrong answer to some of the questions, on tests and homework alike, wrong on purpose. I _know _you are, especially because you just proved that you already know this. In the other classes I have with you, too, you're always doing just good enough to pass , but you're making it so you stay at the same level. All on purpose. I'm asking you why." I can feel him glaring at me. I open my mouth to say something, but I don't know what _to _say.

"And I know that you're doing it, so don't even try that with me."

I sigh softly. "Look, it's not important."

"What do you mean, not _important_?"

I look up at him, meeting his eyes through my goggles. "Mello, it's really not… It doesn't matter. I'm passing school, aren't I?"

He narrows his eyes. "Yeah, but sometimes I think you could care less than you already do and still get top marks if you actually marked the answers right. I don't understand why you lie about something stupid like that."

I drop my gaze again. "Yeah, it's stupid, but… Things are kind of complicated, for me."

After a moment's pause, he sighs and returns to his spot across from me. "I get it… Well, no, I don't really, but alright. It's not my place to pry. Thanks, at any rate."

"No problem."

We work in silence for a minute or two, then Mello murmurs, "You know, you have so many walls up around your life, sometimes I wish I could just read your mind… maybe then I'd understand…"

I shudder lightly. _It's a good thing you can't read my mind…_ "As I said, things can be complicated…" I shrug, and we drop the subject.

"So, Mihael huh?" I ask a few minutes later, smirking slightly.

He sighs, brushing his hair back behind his ear. "I really prefer Mello, you know."

"I know that. Why though? What's wrong with Mihael?"

"Nothing. I just _prefer _being called Mello."

I tilt my head. "I'm not the only one with walls, you know," I murmur after a moment. He looks up at me, smiling dryly.

"What's that you said, about things being complicated? It's the same for everyone, I think. A lot of people have things they'd rather not talk about, don't they."

I nod. "Everyone has secrets, but some people have darker ones than others." My words are actually a very subtle warning to him, I realize. I didn't mean for things for go in this direction, but because I messed up they did.

The subject is officially dropped after that, and we move on like the conversation didn't happen. But it did, and there's no getting around that.

I really hope I didn't just give him what he needed to take the next step to figuring out who I really am. I know he knows something's up, I think I've known that for a while. And part of me hopes he figures it out, just so _someone _can know the truth, but most of me hopes he doesn't, because where would he be then?

Far away from me, that's where.

. . .

I can't sleep tonight. I can't sleep very well at all anymore. I'm used to it, yeah, but I did like having nights where I didn't see my father's face or feel that horrible sense of dread. I miss nights where I could sleep and not wake up, terrified of being left alone, or hurt again in a variety of ways.

I wish I could sleep without dealing with my dreams trying to convince me that I'm feeling something I'm not.

I shouldn't have allowed myself to start expecting those nights, but I did. I didn't think the nightmares would come back unprovoked like this.

And how do I spend most of these nights, trying to forget my nightmares, my unhappiness, and my fucked up life? I do the only thing that blinds me of all those things for a few moments: I cut. I'm not going to start smoking again (for now. Something holds me back at the moment, but I'm not sure what), and I'm not going to _drink_ to forget those things. That's just stupid. No, cutting is a different kind of numbing. Your senses are sharpened, and you are very much aware of everything around you. But it's a distraction.

_What is even _keeping _me here? Someone else in my position would probably have already tried to end their life by now, so what's keeping me back? Why haven't I? _If I cut deep enough, I could bleed to death. Why don't I? It wouldn't matter if I died. Why on earth do I bother to keep living like this? I'm just taking up people's time, and I'm a waste of space. No one, really _no one _would be hurt if I died. Mother and Misa would _miss _me, but they don't need me. The spot I would usually take would soon close up, and I would be, eventually, forgotten. So why am I here? Why do I bother?

There is something keeping me here, shedding a little light on my darkness. Slowly, I'm starting to figure out what that might be. And it's not a good thing.

My family doesn't really need me, and they will be even less conspicuous if there was only the two of them. I seriously doubt my death would make the news. I would probably be mentioned as a side note.

But what would people think? _Matt _certainly isn't depressed. Matt has friends, Matt does well in school, and he has a good home life, doesn't he? Even Mother and Mari, or Misa, wouldn't get it. They think that we've managed to find something better than what we had, and we have. I never said we didn't. It's just not helping me.

I don't know what will help me. Maybe nothing will, maybe I'm to far gone and eventually I _will _snap and cut too deep, or swallow too many pills, or find some other way to just end my life. But if I am too deep into all of this, wouldn't I be dead by now?

As I said, something is keeping me here. Something, no, some_one, _keeps appearing in my thoughts, and my irrational side keeps intervening, trying to keep me here. Trying to keep me from cutting deep into my body and letting the life bleed out of me.

I'm starting to doubt that it's just me desperate for a lifeline, and I'm starting to suspect that I may be trying to fool myself that I'm _not _feeling what I really am.

**I'm not proud of this chapter, because I think it's rushed. I tend to be a harsh critic of myself, yes, but it's true! **

** Anyway, this chapter was important, and YES Matt is starting to realize that he likes Mello a lot more than he should! I like that part of this chapter, and I think now is a good time to have him start wondering about that…**

** Translations**

Ya doma, ya privez kogo-to: I'm home, and I brought someone

Kto, Mihael: Who, Mihael

Moy droog, Matt: My friend, Matt

On ne vladeyet russkim yazykom. U nas yestʹ proyekt dlya raboty na: He does not speak Russian. We have a project to work on

**Thanks for reading and thanks to all my lovely reviewers! You guys are GREAT!**


	8. Snow is Annoying, That's Why

**Mello POV **

_"Mihael, prikhodite. Tvoya matʹ khochet tebya videt," the tall man in a white coat says kindly, taking my small and hand pulling upright, off of the bench in the big, brightly lit hall. I let him lead me down the hall, and he opens a door a few yards down from where I was sitting. _

_ Mama's room is softly lit, and the curtains on the window are pulled back. It is small, but neat and nice. It seems nice enough, but there is heaviness in the air, and the faint smell of ammonia._

_ Mama lies, propped up on a pillow, in her bed. Her blonde hair falls softly on her shoulders, and her eyes are closed. The man releases my hand, and gestures towards her. I step cautiously towards her, until I reach her bed. I reach up, the raised mattress high enough to block up to my chin. I tug gently on Mama's blanket, looking up at her silently. She opens her eyes, and smiles softly when she sees me._

_ Her eyes used to be a bright, ice blue, like mine. Everyone who has seen us has told me that I look like her. But now, her eyes are dulled with illness. _

_ "Mihael… Podoydi syuda," she murmurs. Her voice is soft and raspy. I grab the sheet and clamber onto her bed. I crawl over and snuggle next to her. Her frail arms wrap around me, and she smiles at me._

_ "Mama, kogda ty verneshʹsya domoy?" I ask her. Her smile saddens._

_ "Ya ne znayu, yesli ya prikhozhu domoy, Miha," she murmurs, using her nickname for me. I blink in confusion._

_ "Chto vy imeyete v vidu?"_

_ "Ya bolen, Mikha . Ochenʹ bolʹna."_

_ "No vy sobirayetesʹ statʹ luchshe, ne tak li?"_

_ She hesitates. "Ya boryus, Mikha. Ya boryus izo vsekh sil." I frown at her and open my mouth to reply. But before I can, the door opens again, and Papa walks in. _

_ "Nu, Mikhaelʹ , pora idti. My dolzhny zastavitʹ vas vashey babushki," he says in accented Russian._

_ "Net!" I shake my head and clench the loose fabric of Mama's gown. "Mama, ya khochu ostatʹsya!" _

_ She gently uncurls my fingers and pushes me back a bit. "Net, ya budu videtʹ vas snova skoro, no vy dolzhny idti." I continue to protest, trying to attach myself to her, but I feel the strong hands of my father wrap around me and lift me off. I Cry out for my mother as he carries me out of the room, pounding his shoulder with my fists. I don't know how I know, but I am sure that I am never going to see Mama alive again. I will never hear her voice telling me to play nicely, and she will never hug me and sing to me again._

_ I was right._

Aleksei jumping onto my bed and meowing loudly, asking for attention awakes me. I stare up at the dim ceiling, lit by the dawn haze filtering through my window. I blink a few times, trying to escape the fog of my dream.

_Mama…_I scratch Alexei behind the ears. He purrs happily, his tail swishing in the air. I brush my hair off of my eyes and sigh. I look over at my clock, which reads six AM. I know I'm not going back to sleep after that dream, so I sit up and push the blanket back. Aleksei mews in protest before jumping to the floor with a soft thud. I yawn and shift my feet to the floor. My bed is warm, but outside the cover of my blankets the house is cold.

I stand up a little too quickly, and for a moment the room spins around me. I shuffle over to my desk lamp and turn the switch. The bright light that illuminates my room blinds me for a moment.

I open my door to let the cat out, and re shut it to change. I pull out a pair of black skinny jeans, a fitting white shirt, and my thick black sweatshirt. It's so cold now, as November draws to a close, that only my winter sweater will keep me warm, and that's combined with a hat. I'm sure it's about thirty or forty degrees colder outside than it is inside, but I still shiver as I step out of my room.

Baba is still asleep in her room, but both Kata and Aleksei scamper down the hall to the kitchen, awaiting food. I pour their food into a bowl and let them at it. While the two cats eat, I go about making tea.

I'm ready for school by six forty-five, and by now the sun has long since risen. I study until seven forty, when I have to eave for school. I throw my backpack over my shoulder and call goodbye to my grandmother.

I step out into the chilly air and pull my hood over my head, pulling my sweatshirt closer around me. There are thick, yellowish grey clouds overhead, and the air has a sting to it.

I'm about halfway to the corner when I see it: the fluffy flakes floating through the air, just a few scattered here and there, but growing larger and larger in number as I walk. Snow.

I can't help but smile. I pause and look up, blinking as the cold snowflakes fall on my face, melting when they touch my skin. The snow melts when it hits the ground, but snow is snow. Snow reminds me of Russia.

"You sure look happy today," Matt comments when I meet him and Misa on the corner.

"It's snowing," I reply, as if that explains everything, and technically, it does.

"You really love it, don't you."

"Yeah…" I murmur, letting my voice trail off. Matt looks up with a less-than-happy expression in his face. Misa sighs.

"Matt, I've never understood why you don't like snow."

"Long story," Matt mutters. "I don't mind it existing, I just don't like being out in it. It's cold, wet, and annoying."

I shake my head. "Snow is awesome. What's your problem, huh?"

Matt shrugs and starts walking. "Come on, we don't want to be late, do we?"

As we walk, the snow falls heavier and it seems to get colder. Matt keeps his hands in his pockets and his chin buried in the collar of his vest.

"It's going to be Christmastime soon," Misa notes as we approach the school. "It's going to be fun, don't you think so Matt?" She grins at him, and he responds with a small smile.

"Yeah, I guess."

I glance across the school grounds, and my eyes fall on Beyond and Lawliet. I smirk. "I wonder who's going to be the victims of Beyond's game this year?"

"What game?" Misa asks, tilting her head curiously.

"He goes around in a Father Christmas hat with some mistletoe and hangs it over people's heads. He won't go away until he gets them to kiss and whatnot. It's funny until it happens to you."

"Has he done that to you yet?" Matt asks, smirking.

"No, and he had better not." Matt laughs.

Misa has a thoughtful look on her face. Slowly, a mischievous smile spreads across her face. "That's interesting…" Suddenly, her eyes light up. "Oh, I have an idea! I need to go ask him something, bye you two!" With that, she scampers off, calling out to Beyond.

We stare at her for a moment. "Uh, I don't know what that was about, so… yeah," Matt says, his eyebrows raised.

I laugh, and we head into the building. In the front of the school is the board with the current best in the school. Matt has moved up a few numbers, and I'm in he same spot as usual.

"Are you actually going to get the score you deserve on the semester finals, or are you going to keep on getting just a little above average?" I ask as we pause to look the list over. Matt looks off to the side.

"I don't know."

"Hm." I still don't understand why Matt would lie about something as trivial as his intelligence, but I'm not going to pry. I've just been watching him work more carefully than before.

Matt is very careful, actually, on which problems he gets right and wrong. The easiest ones and most of the somewhat difficult ones he gets through quickly, but on the ones that should challenge people he very pointedly marks the wrong answer.

It is actually frustrating me a lot more than it should.

. . .

I've realized something else about Matt. He doesn't smile very often. Well, kind of. He smiles about the same amount of times as any other person does, but they aren't _real _smiles. He used to smile only a bit, when he first moved here. He was a lot shier then. After a while, he started laughing and actually _smiling _more. But recently, once again his smiles have lost their genuineness.

He smiles when he has to, but the last time I saw him smile for real was about a week ago. He's good at faking smiles, but I've watched him, looking for the answers to my questions, enough to know when he is actually smiling because he's happy and when he's smiling because it's what he's expected to do.

And lately, Matt doesn't seem very happy.

There are other things, too, that are making me thing that something is up with Matt. He is quieter now, too, and doesn't seem as… energetic? It's different from when he first moved here, around three months ago. He isn't being shy, more of closed off and blocking people out. Blocking me out, too.

I don't know if I'm just overreacting to nothing, but I'm starting to get a bit worried. Matt was never an open person, but he was never this quiet, and this quick to just say "I'm fine" and change the subject.

I wish I could see his eyes more clearly, but he never takes the goggles off. I'm still filled with the urge to just lift them away from his face, but I wont. I don't think he would appreciate it very much. He seems to want to keep his eyes hidden, almost.

Matt also seems conflicted. He will open his mouth to say something to me, but quickly close it and look away, frowning ever so slightly. It only lasts a second, but I've caught it happening more than a few times over the past week or two.

I sigh, glaring down at my textbook. I have been at this one problem for about five minutes, and it shouldn't be taking me this long at all. It's a new concept, but it builds off of what I've already gone over.

_"Mello, I think you need to take more breaks and look at your problems later…" _I remember his advice at random, and I decide to follow it. I've been studying for hours, and I'm distracted anyway, so maybe a break would do me good.

I push my chair back and slump in my seat, staring up at the ceiling. As the semester finals approach, I'm getting more and more frustrated. It isn't nearly as stressful as it is at the end of the year, but this test is important too. The high school I go to focuses strongly on academics, which is why we have such things as semester finals.

Always, I am second only to Near. Have I ever beat him? No, but I've tied with him. We both got one hundred percent last year of semester finals. The only person better than him is Lawliet, and Light is pretty much on the same level as Near, if not a little better. It's always been hard for me to come in behind Near in just about everything.

My thoughts drift around, wandering off the topic of studying and onto other random topics. It isn't long before my thoughts shift to Matt again.

I frown. _Why do I always end up thinking about Matt? It's weird, because it doesn't even make sense. He always comes to mind at the most random of times… _I sigh and straighten up, intent of returning to my work.

Matt was right about taking breaks. I messed up one calculation somewhere along in the equation, and it messed the whole thing up.

**Matt POV**

Misa turns away from Beyond, and walks back towards me with a small smile playing on her face.

"What's up with you?" I ask her when she catches up to me.

"Oh, nothing!" she assures me. "I just had something to ask B about."

"Hm." I glance over at Beyond, who is talking to Lawliet by the entrance to the building. Misa seems to be pretty proud of herself, meaning that she is probably planning something behind someone's back. I would ask her about it, but at that moment Mello joins us.

"It's snowing again," he announces, reaching up to catch one of the fluffy white flakes with a gloved hand. "I'm sure you're real happy about that."

I roll my eyes. "Come on, let's go. I'm cold."

"Look, it's sticking," Misa says, pointing to a patch of ground where the snow is starting to clump together. The frozen water is forming a thin white covering over the pavement.

"So it is…" I murmur. Mello has a very interesting reaction to snow. It brings a kind of bittersweet smile to his face. At first glance, he just looks happy with a small smile on his face, but there is sadness in his eyes. I saw him the other day, standing in the middle of a light snowfall, just watching the flakes fall to the ground and melt.

Misa's phone goes off, and she answers it. As she talks, she falls behind Mello and me. Her chatter fades into the background. I swear I can feel static when he brushes against me.

"Oh, before I forget, what do you want for Christmas?" Mello says suddenly, turning to look at me.

For a second, I just blink at him, taken off guard. I've been asked that question all of… once? That sounds about right. I shrug somewhat hesitantly after a moment. "Uh, I don't know. What do _you _want? Wait let me guess, chocolate, chocolate, and more chocolate."

Mello smirks. "Actually, you're pretty much right. But I need an answer from you. What do you want?"

"I told you, I don't know."

"Aren't you helpful."

"Surprise me, why don't you? I honestly don't care very much."

"So… if I get you a big pink teddy bear you'll be fine with it?"

"Maybe, it depends." Mello rolls his eyes and I laugh.

"Fine, I'll have to guess then. Well, not really. I know you well enough to figure out something you'll like."

I smile. "I doubt it will be much of a challenge; my interests are pretty obvious."

"Yeah, I knew the second I saw take your precious Gameboy out that you were a geek."

"I am, and I'm fucking proud of it."

"I noticed that as well."

I snicker again, and absently wipe the snow from my goggles, but instead of clearing them I succeed in making it nearly impossible to see out of them.

"Shit," I mutter, and I use my sleeve in attempt to dry them off.

"What's the matter?"

"Hang on…" I pull them off of my face and rub the lenses with the drier hem of my shirt. I duck my head ever so slightly, letting my hair fall partially over my eyes. When the snow is gone, I slip them back over my eyes.

"Damn snow," I mutter as I start walking again. "This happens when it rains, too."

"Maybe you shouldn't wear those all the time, if it's going to bother you like that."

"It's not that big of a deal, just a bit annoying." I've worn these since I was little. When I was younger, hiding my eyes seemed to make me stronger, and safer, because it kept people from reading the emotions in them. My dad picked up on this, always telling me not to hide behind them. He would rip them off of me, and leave me feeling like a deer in the headlights.

The snow is growing thicker under our feet, and there are more and more of the large flakes twirling softly though the air. The sky's covered in solid grey clouds, and the wind is starting to pick up a bit.

"It looks like a good-sized storm might be coming in," Mello mutters.

I nod in agreement, and we start walking a little faster. By the time we reach the corner, though, the snow has gotten a lot harder and the wind has gotten faster.

"You should come with us; our house is quiet a bit closer than yours," I suggest.

"Yeah, that's a good idea," Misa agrees.

He nods, tugging at my hood to keep the snow out. "Okay." We turn towards our house and start walking, our backs to the wind. Mello may love snow, but the storm is just building up, and things are only going to get colder. And walking into the wind like that, his nose will probably freeze off.

It isn't long before we get home. Mother is already at work, so when Misa unlocks the door the house is empty. We drop our snow-dusted backpacks by the door. Misa heads into the kitchen after shedding her coat and scarf.

"I'm making hot cocoa, you to two want some?" Misa calls.

"Yes, please," Mello and I say simultaneously. I take off my vest and leave it hanging next to Misa's coat. The snow is melting, leaving things wet. Mello flips his hood back and takes off his hat, but he keeps his jacket on, partially unzipped. The ends of his hair is wet, the snow that was caught there having melted. He brushes his hair back behind his ear, which lately I have been thinking looks kind of cute.

_Stop it, _I tell myself, but I'm not really sure what I want to stop doing.

Our house is well heated, which is good, because I'm freezing. We join her in the kitchen, where she has milk heating up in the microwave. I sit at the table, and Mello takes the spot to my right.

"That out there," I say, pointing out the kitchen window at the flurry of white, "is why snow is annoying. It's fucking _cold _and it gets everywhere, and then it's all wet."

Mello rolls his eyes. "You're being ridiculous, Matt. You're such a girl. I could totally see you flipping out over your hair, but it's already messy so I doubt you'd even notice a difference."

"You could see me fussing over my hair? What about _you? _There's no way you wake up looking like a shampoo model."

"I spend about five seconds on my hair in the morning."

"I spend about none."

"I can tell."

Misa giggles as she sits down with us, setting three steaming mugs on the table. "You two are so cute!" she squeals. We stare at her for a second.

"What?" Mello asks.

"Yes, please elaborate," I add, raising my eyebrows. Misa just giggles again, smiling innocently.

"Innocently".

"Oh, nothing!" She sighs, suddenly pouting dramatically. "You're both ignorant, though. Can't see something sitting right in front of you!"

"Just ignore her, she's being annoying again," I mutter.

"Hey!"

"But it's okay, she has an excuse."

"What's that?" she demands.

"You're blonde."

"What?" both Misa and Mello glare at me indignantly, and I smirk.

"Okay, Mello, you are a freak of nature. You don't count; you're a super mad-scientist genius. Misa, however, is famously a ditz."

Misa huffs. "You're so mean, Matt."

"It's true, though."

Misa sticks her tongue out at me and takes a sip of her hot chocolate.

"If it makes you feel any better, you're a pretty ditz."

She cracks a small, amused smile, but a wistful one quickly replaces it. "Wouldn't it be fun if I could model?"

I glance at Mello. "Yeah… you liked that, didn't you?" I murmur. The mood seems to have gone from teasing to heavy in an instant.

"You modeled?" Mello questions. "I'm not surprised, you seem like the type to do that."

"Yeah, I just did small shoots, but it was fun." That is a lie. Misa was quickly growing in fame as Mari, and was in all sorts of magazines. If she got too famous, the truth of our father would be revealed eventually, which is why she was forced to only do certain things, but given time she could have become immensely popular.

Her disappearance definitely made the news. She was scheduled for some modeling shoots just before we left, and her absence would definitely catch people's attention. That is one of our worries, that someone will find the link between Misa and Mari.

Our father would have no trouble finding us then.

Mello stays until six, when the storm dies off. Outside, there is about six to eight inches of snow, and more, less threatening clouds coming in. I'll admit it; the snow _is _pretty in the evening light. It sparkles in the last few rays of sun, and is so white it's startling.

. . .

_I don't care about the confused faces of the people who have been deceived and are just realizing it. Just realizing what kind of person I really am. I don't care about the fact that everything is crashing down around me. All I care is the expression on his face._

_ I can't even meet his eyes. "I'm sorry, look, I couldn't just…"_

_ "You're a liar."_

_ "…Yeah, I am, but…"_

_ He just shakes his head, ice blue eyes blazing angrily, and turns away from me. _

_ "Stop trying to explain, I don't want to hear it anyway." I flinch at his words like they punched me in the stomach. _

_ My vision shifts, and suddenly I'm in a completely different environment. I can feel pain all over my body, sharp stings and dull aches, old and new. My knees are bent and I'm curled into the corner about as far as I possibly can be. All I can hear are the loud words, deafening me._

_ "You fucking little worthless faggot! What the fuck is wrong with you?" I whimper, and flinch back into the corner. My eyes are screwed shut behind my goggles, my hands curled in front of my face. _

_ "Carl, please-"_

_ "Shut up, bitch!" I peek up and see my Mother being pushed forcefully into the hall. "Go into my room and stay there!" She backs away, eyes wide with fear._

_ "Look at me when I'm talking to you," he growls at me, suddenly lurching out and grabbing me by the arm. I cry out as he yanks me up and rips the goggles off of my face. I try to keep my face turned away, but he grabs my hair and forces me to look at him. _

_ "If I find out you're still dating that little bastard after tonight, I'm going to do something a lot worse than this, you got that? You're a pathetic little faggot, you had better know that."_

_ I know that my eyes are showing the extent of my pain, my fear, and my anger. All I can do is whimper, squirming in effort to get away from him. He drops me, nearly throwing my to the ground, and I flinch back against the wall again, desperate only for him to stop._

_ He raises the bottle of beer to his mouth again, holding his cigarette in the other hand. The sight of it reminds me of the small burns I now have on my arms. They sear painfully, and I let my head hang. I can't stop shaking. I can't stop hurting._

_ This is the worst beating I've ever gotten, all for something I can't control. My father sends a last kick at me before turning away and stomping off down the hall to his room. It isn't long before I hear soft footsteps approaching me. They pause for a moment, then come and someone kneels next to me, holding my goggles in one hand. _

_ "Mail," Mari murmurs, holding out my goggles. "Come on, let me help you."_

When I wake up, I find myself staring at the wall, unable to think from the shock. I swear I can still feel the pain, and it seems very, very real.

And then I breathe again, recognizing the dark walls of my room in Winchester. My breath hitches, and I shut my eyes, desperate to rid my mind of the nightmares.

But I can still see Mello's angry face, and I can still feel the bone-jarring thud of my Father's punches. I'm not sure which hurts more.

**Translations**

Mihael, prikhodite. Tvoya mat' khochet tebya videt: Mihael, please come. Your mother wants to see you.

Mihael… Podoydi syuda: Mihael… come here

Mama, kogda ty verneshʹsya domoy: Mama, when are you coming home?

Ya ne znayu, yesli ya prikhozhu domoy, Miha: I do not know if I can come home, Miha.

Chto vy imeyete v vidu: What do you mean

Ya bolen, Mikha . Ochenʹ bolʹna: I'm sick, Miha. Very sick.

No vy sobirayetesʹ statʹ luchshe, ne tak li: But you will get better wont you?

Ya boryus, Mikha. Ya boryus izo vsekh sil: I fight, Miha. I'm fighting as hard as I can.

Nu, Mikhaelʹ , pora idti. My dolzhny zastavitʹ vas vashey babushki: Come, Mihael, it's time to go. We must get you to your grandmother's.

Net: No

Mama, ya khochu ostatʹsya: Mama, I want to stay

Net, ya budu videtʹ vas snova skoro, no vy dolzhny idti: No, I'll see you soon, but you must go.

** So you got the best of both worlds: a bit of Mello's past and a bit of Mail's!**

** Translations for this chapter were difficult and frustrating so please don't go testing them with Google translate. They are mostly accurate.**


	9. Flipping Mistletoe

**Usually I try to alternate between Matt and Mello POV, but for this chapter we're getting Matt again.**

**I like this chapter… originally I didn't very much (I thought it was rushed) but then… oh, you'll see.**

**Matt POV**

Misa is _way _to smiley today.

Okay, yeah, it's the last day before Christmas break, and for once we might actually have something to look forward to this year. No, it's not like we're getting all decked out for the holiday or something. Our family is, financially, in only a somewhat better position than when we first moved here. But we don't have Dad sitting around the house, drinking booze and shouting shit about how fucking stupid this season is.

The remains of November and most of December passed quickly, actually. Maybe it's because I am still living in the same, scheduled routine. Maybe it's because I haven't been paying close attention to too many things.

I'm obviously not the happiest person, but even I can't be totally miserable now. After all, I do know how to be a little happy, and I am. A little more than usual, which I guess isn't saying very much at all, but hey.

I am also very much… frustrated? Giddy like a teen girl on Valentines Day? Something between the two, I think. Any confusion on exactly what I was feeling for my supposed best friend has been cleared, but that's not exactly a good thing. I wasn't just desperate to find something bright to hold on to. No, I had already found it and I was just trying to force myself to realize and accept it. The realizing part went well, the accepting not so much.

I'm not supposed to have feelings for someone who doesn't even know the real me. But that's not the only issue. For starters, I am ninety percent sure that Mello is straight. If he isn't, he's probably not interested in romance altogether. Actually, the latter is more likely. And why should he have time for someone who has lied to him the whole time?

Still, I can't help what I feel, and I can't help, now that I've realized it, trying to catch it and use it to heat up my cold life just a bit. Of course, playing with fire is a dangerous thing. I'm probably going to end up burned, but in reality, what do I have to lose?

Not a lot, that's how much.

Anyway, Misa is acting far too happy, almost like she has been let in on a secret that works very much to her favor. She keeps smiling almost mischievously as we walk towards the corner through the light snow. I hope Mello notices this too and I'm not just seeing things.

Misa has her present for Light in her hands. I have a pack of rather fancy (I would call it fancy; it tastes fancy, looks fancy, hence, it is "fancy", or as the British like to say, "posh") chocolate for Mello, knowing that it literally is all he wants. That I could give him, at least. She asked everyone in our group what they wanted, and they specifically told her _not _to get them anything (she still doesn't understand their response). But Light is an obvious exception, being her boyfriend and all.

Light, in my opinion, is an annoyingly arrogant, Hollister model of a genius that really ought to clear things up on whom he's interested in. It's almost like he and Lawliet have something going on in the background, while he covers it up with his relationship with Misa.

We stop and wait for Mello at the corner. He still hasn't gotten around to fixing his bike (lazy ass), but he says he likes walking with me anyway.

Before I realized I like him, that didn't mean half as much to me. Fuck emotions and their ways of altering my thoughts and logic.

Why did it take me so long to accept it? Why did I need so much convincing? Wasn't that my heart speeds up whenever he gets close and that I can't seem to stop thinking about him enough? I didn't want to believe it, I think, because I know it's really not the best thing that could happen. Also I have about a negative percent chance with him, so I'm only going to end up hurting. More.

But do feelings like listening to reasoning? No, they don't even speak that language.

"Hi, Mello!" Misa calls. The blonde walking through the soft snow towards us pulls me from my thoughts. He has his hood up over his head, and his hair sticks out of it near the bottom. He waves back at Misa's greeting, smiling with half of his mouth. He does that sort of half-smile thing a lot. I find it endearing.

When one has feelings stronger than friendship for someone, you begin to find everything, even their flaws, about said someone desirable. For example, a normal person would avoid someone with Mello's temperament, but lately I have found myself thinking he looks cuter when he's mad. He does.

Shut up, logic. I'm not in the mood for you to come in and start casting a shadow on everything I say.

But then again, have his angry tendencies ever scared me off? No. At first I was kind of scared at him, but for some reason I seem to be one of the few people he wont lay a hand on. I think the only other person who is totally safe from his wrath is Lawliet. And his grandmother, too.

"Matt, hello, you in there?" I jump slightly as Mello waves his hand in front of my face.

"Huh?"

"You were spacing out."

I blush slightly, and look down. I'm glad that Mello can't see my eyes behind my goggles, because who knows what they would give away. "Oh, uh, sorry."

Mello laughs lightly, and I smile a little. Now that the semester finals are over, a lot of Mello's stress and irritability has faded. Of course, he's still anxious for the scores. Another thing people probably find a bit odd about Mello is his determination to beat Near and be the _best. _He is practically obsessed with being better, better, better. I think he has come in second a lot, and he's tired of it. At least, that's part of it… I think.

"Here, before you zone out again," Mello says, pulling something out of his backpack, "here." He holds out a thin package, which after a second of hesitation I accept. I pull the chocolate from my bag and hand it to him.

"And before I forget," I say as he takes it. "And I think you should wait to open that, if you can even control yourself."

Mello laughs. "We're both waiting." I smile again, a real smile. Mello tends to elicit those genuine displays of elation from me. Most of the times all I can manage are small, this-is-what's-expected-of-me smiles nowadays.

"Come on you two, stop flirting and hurry up!" Misa calls over her shoulder.

"_What?" _we both yelp, staring indignantly at her. I feel blood creeping into my face, and I glare icily at her.

"She has been acting weird like that since she woke up this morning," I grumble. Mello rolls his eyes, smirking.

"Your sister is impossible, isn't she?"

"Yes." We start after Misa, passing houses with snow-covered lawns and ornately decorated trees in their windows. If you ask me, most of this Christmas get up is totally unnecessary and kind of silly, but that may just be because I've never been a part in it. I wouldn't know the feeling of running around in Santa hats, hanging gaudy little ornaments off of pine trees, and singing cheesy carols far too loudly. That's what I've always seen people around me doing. That's what I've never been a part of. I doubt I'll ever understand it.

When we reach the school, it's awfully obvious that it's the last day of education before we are released for a couple of weeks to celebrate some senseless holiday. People are laughing and chatting loudly, and everyone, literally everyone, looks happy. This is what I see every year. But this year it's different.

This year, I'm not going to stand all alone in the shadows, keeping quiet and acting like I don't even care about anything to do with the holiday. This year, I have people who talk to me. Well, Matt has friends. No one knows Mail. But then there's the fact that I am seriously unsure exactly who I even want to be.

God, I'm so fucking positive. It's Christmas, and I'm still being depressing! I desperately need to fix my attitude. I can look at Christmas like it's just another day by myself, but around people I need to act as if I like this holiday. I need to act like I've always enjoyed all the festivities I've never taken part in.

So shut up Mail, and be Matt for a while.

Misa runs off somewhere, probably to Light, while Mello and I head to the halls. I need to get my books from my locker.

It doesn't take me long to figure out that the girls at this school are big on the romantic part of Christmas. All girls are. The only time it's worse is on Valentines day. I wonder where Beyond is, prowling around with his mistletoe, waiting for someone to drop in on and pester until they give in. Mello told me some awfully funny stories from last year and the year before that, but if that were to happen to me I don't think I'd be too happy.

And I think I just cursed my luck, because not ten minutes later Mello and me are standing outside my classroom (which is on the way to his first period) talking, when Mello's expression suddenly turns from one of amusement to really strong irritation.

"Beyond. What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Doing." He pronounces each word like it is its own sentence through gritted teeth. I follow his gaze to a spot above and slightly in front of me, trying to figure out the reason for his sudden crossness.

Oh. Mistletoe.

Wait, _what? _

I quickly move away from it, following the hand that holds it into the air down to Beyond, who is grinning evilly, and Misa smiling next to him.

"You're our target this year," she says cheerily.

"And we aren't leaving you alone until you kiss."

"Fuck no," Mello growls, crossing his arms.

That… shouldn't hurt. But it does. Fuck it. I glare at them. "Really, Misa? You're such a bitch sometimes."

She giggles innocently, eyes glinting. "Aw, you're mean! Sorry, Matt, but I'm not giving up on this!"

"Sorry my ass."

"Why don't you go after Hailey and Brandon? That should offer plenty of interest for you," Mello suggests. Those two are possibly the most dramatic couple in the history of the universe. They make out in the halls, fight, break up, fight, date other people, cheat with each other, get back together, fight, make up, go on ridiculous dates, and make out some more before breaking up for seemingly no reason. Wash, rinse, and repeat.

I think that they actually do like each other, but it's all kind of a game for them. And they provide plenty of entertainment for the rest of the student population.

Beyond and Misa both shake their heads. "They would kiss anyway, mistletoe or not. Even though they both are currently dating other people," Misa explains.

I know I'm blushing, I can feel the heat on my face. Why, Misa, _why the fuck would you do this to me? _No, she doesn't know that I like Mello (I wish I didn't, but at the same time, I'm glad I do), she's too stupid and I know I've hidden my kind of confusing feelings well, but she knows full well that I'm gay. Nice going. I can totally see how much she cares for me. What a loving cousin/sister she is.

"Just get it over now, and we will leave you alone," Beyond says, wiggling the mistletoe in the air. Mello jerks his head back an forth once, stepping away from Beyond, and I hastily shake my head.

"Alright then, he hard way it is," he cackles, an evil grin slowly spreading over his face. "You have one last chance before we make today hell for the both of you."

This isn't fucking funny, karma. Beyond's evil tendencies. Life. Whatever the hell is behind this. I don't appreciate it.

Neither of us moves; we just glare at him. I can feel the heat still lingering on my face. Why did this happen to me of all people?

Oh right, I have a sadistic "sister" who likes to mess with people's' nonexistent love lives.

We are temporarily saved when the bell rings, but I have a feeling that this is going to be a very long day.

. . .

"Beyond, go the _fuck _away!" Mello groans as the little bough of mistletoe appears over our heads for the hundredth time today. Beyond cackles, and is too slow to dodge the punch Mello sends at his face. He yelps and drops the plant, and his fingers close around Mello's wrist.

"That hurt," he hisses, his hands tightening around Mello's arm. The blonde rips his hand away and places it on his hip.

"I'll punch you again if you don't leave us alone."

Beyond rubs the already bruising mark on his cheek. "We're going to get you before the end of the day," he mutters, and Misa snatches the mistletoe from the floor. They both turn and walk away, probably planning their next attack.

Mello sighs exasperatedly, glaring at the people watching so that they quickly drop their gazes. "What the hell is wrong with him?"

"I think it's my sister's doing, actually," I mutter.

"Why on Earth would she do something like that?"

"She is a hopeless flirt. She likes messing with people's love life."

Mello rolls his eyes. "Well, let's eat somewhere else today then, so they won't bother us. We should try getting somewhere before they catch us when lunch comes around."

I nod in agreement. Beyond and Misa are being _so _annoying, and it's seriously not helping me organize and lock up the things I've already got running around in my mind. With the infamous if-you-get-stuck-under-me-you're-screwed plant hanging over our heads every time Beyond and Misa are around, combined with the lack of other "targets" this year, everyone knows exactly what the two are trying to get us to do.

Several people have told us just to do it. And a fair number of the girls keep giggling and obviously gossiping about something that is completely nonexistent between Mello and me. Every single one of those people has received a bone-chilling death glare from Mello.

Mello is pissed with Beyond about this. Walking down the hall with someone hanging a plant over your head and cackling, "just do it already!" over and over isn't the most fun thing in the word. Especially when you have an overenthusiastic flirt hovering around and several onlookers giggling and pointing.

Really, who decided that _this _random plant (well, it's kind of a plant. It's actually a type of parasite, but whatever) had to be the signal of _kiss me? _Who was the _genius _that said, "Look, a plant hanging over our heads. Since its Christmas, I guess I have to kiss you now"?

Someone who wants to watch the people like me burn.

At least Beyond and Misa aren't in any of Mello's classes or mine. We have about two hours without them hanging over our heads, but of course lunch comes around a bit too quickly.

Mello catches up with me in the halls. "Let's get someplace where Beyond won't track us down."

"Yeah," I agree. Before I can suggest anything, Beyond and Misa appear out of nowhere, glaring at us.

"Where is it?" Beyond demands.

I jump slightly, flinching away from them. "Uh, what?"

"The mistletoe! What did you two do with it?"

"Nothing!" Mello snarls. "We've been avoiding you two all day. Someone else must have taken it."

There is a long pause as Misa and Beyond think Mello's words over, glaring at us the whole time. We really didn't do anything; they probably just put it down somewhere or left it in one of their classes.

"True, you to have been, if anything, running away from us…" Misa smiles sweetly. "When we find it again, we're going to get you!" With that, she tugs on Beyond's sleeve and pulls him off down the hall.

We stand there for a moment, processing the less-than-a-minute confrontation that just occurred. Misa talks too fast.

"Come on, let's go find someplace where they wont be able to track us down once they find their precious plant again," Mello mutters after a moment. I nod and follow him past the lockers and out the main building. We aren't technically supposed to be out here, but we won't get caught. It's far too cold out here for my tastes (for any sane person's tastes, actually), but it's worth not having Beyond and Misa holding mistletoe over our heads, telling us to kiss already.

It's not the most fun thing in the world, having someone try to force you to kiss the one you just so happen to like, even though you shouldn't. It's slightly akin to embarrassing hell, actually. I mean, I've been through shit before, but this is just unfair…especially because _I _don't even know the exact extent of my feelings and…stuff.

Words elude me. Fuck literacy.

Positivity also seems to have an extreme aversion to me. Or maybe I just don't know _how _to be happy and how to enjoy things properly. Maybe I can't.

But it's fucking Christmas, so I should probably push these thoughts to the back of…my…mind….

"Um." That simple noise that clearly indicates confusion and uncertainty is all I can manage at the moment. I glance at Mello, who looks about as shocked as I am. Well, it's not like we didn't predict this, it's just that we didn't really expect to see Lawliet and Light back here. Kissing.

When we rounded the corner, we weren't expecting to see Lawliet holding Beyond's mistletoe against the wall, over Light's head. We weren't exactly expecting to bump into the two geniuses of the school practically (we cut right in the middle of things) making out. My brain wants an excuse, and I don't think, "Hey, it's Christmas! Fuck the fucking world!" is going to cut it.

"Found the mistletoe," I finally mutter, shifting uncomfortably, adding a half-footprint into the multitude of others. This is about ten shades of awkward.

Light and Lawliet just stare at us for another long moment, before jerking apart, both of them blushing. Let's add another few cups of uncomfortable to the mix, why don't we? It seems to get more and more awkward with each second, because only now is the reality of this hitting the four of us.

"Okay, I can't say I'm surprised, but…" Mello begins, suddenly biting back his own words. "Actually, I am surprised. What the _fuck _are you two doing? I mean, just…what the Hell?"

There is another long pause, and then Light sighs, running a hand through his already mussed up hair. "I…don't really have an answer for that. So, good question."

Mello's confused expression morphs into a scowl, and he plants both hands on his hips. "I'm also not sure whether to thank you for taking that damned plant or to tell you to fucking get a bloody room. Oh, and don't you have a girlfriend?" he demands, turning pointedly to Light.

I find my voice again, suddenly angry for Misa's sake. "That just so happens to be my sister. She's a flirty ditz, but I have a feeling that she's not going to be happy about this if she finds out."

Light looks suddenly nervous before he manages to conceal his emotions again. Lawliet just stares blankly at us, as if devoid of emotion, but judging for the color on his face he's not.

"Look, you won't believe me, but I do care about Misa… As her brother you should know that she's very much worthy of worry. But, obviously, I don't care about her any more than that." This is perfect student Light Yagami (his father is from Japan, as I learned, which is how he got his name) that I'm talking too. But I care about Misa too. I care about Mari. And I'm not going to let this guy lie to her.

"Yeah, I get it, you don't want to hurt her," I scowl, crossing my arms. "But I'm not going to have you lying to her. You had better tell her something, or I'm going to tell her the truth." At this, he winces.

"I know, I will," he mutters, looking slightly put out. Hah, he doesn't like this situation, does he.

Lawliet twirls the mistletoe absently in his fingers. "I should probably go drop this somewhere for Beyond to pick up…" he mutters.

"Fuck no, go bury it in the snow!" Mello suggests, scowling at the plant. "He's been tailing us everywhere with that thing."

Lawliet _hm_s to himself, looking at the little stems of leaves and berries with what looks like mild interest. "It won't do any good. He has extra, but he likes using the perfect ones… He spent a while picking them out earlier."

"Well, get rid of it anyway. Burn it, shred it, just get rid of it," Mello grumbles, starting forward to push past them. "Come on Matt, I'm hungry." I cast Lawliet and Light one last look before following him.

This is kind of…ridiculous. I sigh as the two of them fall behind us, and I try to push it to the back of my mind. As long as Light isn't with Misa, how does it concern me? I mean, I'm not shocked that they were kissing, but I still wasn't expecting to run in on them doing so.

Mello still has a scowl fixed on his face, and is muttering something about idiotic bastards under his breath.

"What's wrong?" I ask, somewhat tentatively, when he finally stops and sits on the raised concrete along the bottom of the wall. I sit to his right and plop my stuff down. I don't bother getting my lunch out, because I'm not hungry anyway (I hardly ever am).

"They're just really stupid, those two," he mutters.

I smirk. "You're talking about the top two geniuses in the school… for smart kids. I don't think they're stupid, Mello."

He glares at me. "You don't think it's idiotic to go behind the school building to kiss another guy behind your girlfriend's back?"

"No, that's idiotic. I don't care who the two of them are interested in, but…yeah…" I let my voice trail off, unsure exactly how to word things.

Mello leans back against the wall, looking up. "I couldn't care less who Light wants to make out with, either, but that doesn't make it less moronic."

"Hm." I shiver and huddle deeper into my vest, attempting to block out the cold. It's not that bad, now that I'm more used to the weather here, but I doubt I'll ever love cold and snow like Mello does. Like so many people here seem to do.

After a few minutes, Mello speaks again. "You know, you don't eat a lot," he observes. I shrug.

"I'm not hungry very often."

"Really? It seemed different when you first moved here… Whatever, I just realized that and thought aloud."

I don't bother answering with anything more than another short hum. I guess my apatite did return for a bit, but it seems that it likes to come and go with any happiness I might feel. We chat a bit, aimlessly, as the minutes of lunch break creep by, but mostly we sit in silence. It's nice though, not awkward. It doesn't need to be filled with pointless words spoken just for the sake of hearing and making noise.

Unfortunately, within the last ten minutes of lunch, our peace is interrupted very cruelly.

"Fouund youu!" Misa sings, skipping up to us. "What are you two doing back here?"

We both groan as Beyond comes up behind her, holding what must be his back up kissing plant.

"Hiding for you two," Mello snaps. "Can't you leave us the fuck alone?"

"Nope!" Misa grins. Her expression is one of evil glee. Kill me now, please. She has something up her sleeve.

"You two," Beyond begins, wiggling the mistletoe in the air for effect, "are going to kiss. Right here. Right now."

Before either of us can protest, Misa cuts in. "It's perfect! No one's around, and we can keep you here even after the bell rings!"

"I doubt that. Both of us are stronger than the two of you," I point out. "We can get past you."

"Yes, but would you hit a girl?" she says sweetly. "Anyway, you two are going to get it over with, and you are going to get it over with _now._"

Oh. That's her plan. There comes a certain point when Misa will do _anything _to get what she wants, so that she becomes so stubborn going against her is like trying to get a fish to breathe on land. And it looks like we're at that point, so that she knows she can say stupid things but she will still get us to do what she wants.

I almost want to give away Light and Lawliet's secret so that they will get distracted and leave us alone.

Both Mello and I stand, glaring at them indignantly. I can feel myself blushing _again, _much to my displeasure. I would love a way out of this…

Beyond holds his mistletoe over our heads. "Come on already, I'm getting tired of this."

Mello attempts to swat his hand away. "Then go bother someone else!"

"We will when you kiss," Misa promises.

"No!" both of us protest in unison, glaring at the two of them. We continue to argue for another five minutes, about, before a _very _pissed-off Mello throws his hands into the air and snaps,

"Fine, goddamnit! Will you leave us the fuck alone if we fucking kiss?"

There is a short pause. I definitely didn't see Mello giving in any time soon, and I doubt Beyond or Misa did either. Beyond smiles wickedly.

"That is a promise."

"But it has to be three seconds long, at least, or we'll make you do it again!" Misa adds, and if looks could kill, Misa wouldn't have ever even been born. No, none of the atoms in her body would even exist.

And then I realize that Mello is giving in to them. Obviously, he just wants them to shut up every bit as much as I do, but that means…

"Fuck both of you with a cheese grater," Mello growls before turning to me. "Let's get this the fuck over with."

I uncross my arms, feeling my face heat up a couple hundred degrees. "Um…Mello…" I stammer. He doesn't seem to hear me, and instead sends another ticked glare at Beyond and his mistletoe hanging overhead. His face is still fixed in a scowl, and he is blushing slightly, but whether from irritation or embarrassment I can't tell.

"Oh, hurry up already," Misa grumbles not two seconds after the weak words of protest leave my mouth, suddenly pushing me forwards.

"Hey!" I yelp, stumbling and shooting daggers at her with my eyes. But she probably can't see them behind my goggles.

Mello grabs my arm to keep my from falling over… and uses that as an opportunity to pull me forward slightly, tilt his head, and kiss me.

Someone please get an AED, because my heart isn't working properly. It stopped beating a second ago and I need someone to shock it back into gear.

These three seconds feel more like three eons. No, three milliseconds. They take an _impossibly _long time to pass, and yet they're over in an instant. Mello pulls away from me, and for a moment, his hand is still wrapped around my wrist. For a moment, he frowns just a little, his mouth slightly open. But it's such a short thing that, when he lets go of me and turns to yell at Misa and Beyond, I'm not sure if I even saw anything.

"There you go, are you happy now?" he snaps. "Can you fuck off please?"

Misa squeals. "Yup! Come on, B, I have to go to my locker!" She grabs Beyond by the sleeve and tugs him off, nearly causing him to drop his stupid plant.

I'm only vaguely taking this in. I'm staring blankly at the snow, trying to get my thoughts in order. Because currently they're all over the place, leaving a much disorganized mess for me to try and scrape back together. It takes me a second to realize Mello asked me something.

"Matt? Are you okay?"

I blink in effort to clear my head and shake myself. "Yeah, I'm fine." Oh, so my voice works. That's good.

Mello sighs. He's still blushing slightly. "Well, at least they aren't bothering us anymore. Sorry about that, but they were fucking pissing me off."

"It's fine," I mutter distractedly. My thoughts aren't being very cooperative. Get organized, goddamnit!

"We should go back inside… the bell rings soon," Mello suggests. I nod in agreement and follow him back into the building. Only now is my brain starting to speed up.

Oh God. Mello just kissed me, didn't he?

. . .

"Matt, are you alright?" I jump slightly, looking up at Cecil.

"Huh? Uh, yeah, why?"

She smiles a bit worriedly. "Because you've been really spacey today. Are you sure you're not sick or something?" Cecil's so perceptive; she notices when something's off with someone the moment they walk in the door. I smile at her, rubbing the back of my head.

"Sorry, I'm just a bit tired," I lie. In reality, I've been unable to think straight since lunch.

"Why don't you go home a bit early then? We're closing soon, and we have more than enough people here today. It's not the busiest Friday we've seen, anyway."

"It's fine, really," I insist, but she shakes her head.

"No, you could be getting sick. We don't want that, do we? Go home, it's fine." She holds her hands out for my apron, and I somewhat reluctantly hand it over. I don't really want to go home early, but I guess I do need to put my thoughts in order. Or as much order as they will be in.

I go to the back and get my vest before heading back out.

"Going early, huh?" Alec says, pausing to talk to me. "That's good; you seem a bit out of it today."

I shrug. "Just tired. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye," he calls as I leave the café. I wave over my shoulder and start towards the bus stop.

The way home passes in a kind of blur. No, more of a whirl of thoughts. I don't pay much attention to my surroundings; I'm too busy trying to shut myself up.

Mello kissed me because he was tired of Beyond and Misa's bitching. I was too, but considering the fact that what I'm feeling is _definitely _not friendship, something like that does a lot more to me that it should. I should be able to just brush it off. I should be able to just ignore it and say "whatever, it doesn't mean anything." It doesn't mean anything.

But can I convince my irrational side this? No. emotions don't listen to reason.

Thus, I am on autopilot for most of the way home, but as soon as I get inside my house, I notice something…off.

The door is locked, as usual, but when I unlock it and step in the smell wafts over me like a familiar slap to the face. Is that… cigarette smoke? I'm positive it is, but that doesn't make sense…

And, it's quiet. Where is Misa? She can't possibly be out right now, she's always home and she said she didn't have any plans. I slip my backpack off of my shoulders and set it on the ground, walking somewhat cautiously into the kitchen. I'm probably just being paranoid, but still…

"Misa? You here?" I call out, walking back into the living room. A moment later, I hear footsteps behind me. But those are _not _Misa's, or Mari's…

I move to turn around, but I'm too slow. Far too slow. I let out a startled cry of pain as someone grabs my hair and yanks me back with unnecessary force. Another hand grabs the scruff of my shirt and keeps me from escaping. I automatically squirm to get away, but that only gets me another painful yank on the hair. I can feel breath by my ear, and smell cigarette smoke very, very close to me.

"I found ya, you little faggot," they hiss. "Thought you could hid from me, eh? Well you were fucking wrong."

Another whimper escapes my lips.

He found us.

**DUN….DUN…DUUUUUHHHHH! **

** Yep! I went there! I made a chapter where Matt finally figures out exactly what his feelings are, Mello kisses him, and then… BAM! That Oh. My. Fucking. Shit. Fdiohfofwvnjfbgqho. Moment.**

** But seriously, this is depressing. **

** Also, did I take things too fast with Matt? I figured he could realize his feelings over the course of a month, no? These things may take a while to build up, but certain feelings just blindside us, and smack us in the face one day when we wake in the morning. **

** That was poetic. **

** I feel like squealing like a fangirl and crying at the same time. What am I flippin DOING to poor Matty? I'm such a sadist! **

** HAHAHAHA, oh the plans I have….**

** *Sniffle* I'm sorry Matty… I love you…**

** Matt: Right, bitch. **

** Mello: Fuck you with a cheese grater.**

** (I had to put that line in there, when I thought of it… I thought it was funny, but I'm no comedian. That should be the title of this chapter.)**


	10. Fat Ass Cat

**You lovely reviewers you… Reviewing so quickly after I update! I send air hugs your way. It was like a bomb went off, that's how much reaction I got. And now I'm going to make you all mad… by writing Mello POV. **

**Hah.**

**Wow, Mello sounds like he's in some serious denial…Hah, I didn't originally plan it this way. It wrote itself out like that. **

**Mello would be a cat person, if you ask me. Matt would like dogs I think, yes? No? Whatever. **

**Mello POV**

I didn't realize how quickly the days were passing. I honestly forgot about my birthday on the thirteenth until Baba reminded me.

I don't celebrate my birthday. I'm one year older, so what? The last time I even wanted to do anything was years ago, before Mama died. Before illness came and sapped the life out of her.

I honestly didn't notice most of December go by; I was awfully preoccupied with my studying for the semester finals. Now that they are over with, I feel a little more relaxed. They were easy, really. But still, I have a feeling that Near beat me. Again.

But all of that seems… distant, yes that sounds like the right word. Not unimportant, but I'm distracted from all of that by _one _recurring thought, one thing that refuses to leave me alone. I can't explain it, and I don't have a good reason for it, but all my mind wants to dwell on is _Matt._

More specifically, that I kissed him.

I did it just to shut Misa and Beyond up. I did it just to get them to fuck off, to get it over with. I was tired of their bitching, and Matt was obviously through with it as well, so I did what they asked.

I didn't count on being unable to stop thinking about it. And I don't know why, which is the most infuriating thing in the world. It's stupid really, because it's not like it meant anything (despite what Misa would love to think; she spent the rest of the day telling us how cute we are). I have zero reason to be thinking about it again…and again…and again.

I flop back on my bed, trying to find a way to pass the time and not think about some stupid, meaningless kiss. To stop thinking about how cute Matt looks when he's blushing…

And I so didn't just think that, and I'm so going insane.

"Ha, I'm sure someone out there would find this very entertaining, this messing with my head," I mutter humorlessly to myself. I check the time again. It's midmorning, Saturday. Matt's at work right now…

I roll over onto my stomach, grabbing a random book from the small collection on my nightstand. I never get around to putting them away; I just add new ones to the pile until I get around to rereading one of the older ones, and by then it's been long enough that I feel like reading it again. There's only one book that I can read over and over and never get tired of it. It's an old book that belonged to my mother, written in Russian. She gave it to me when I was little, and despite it being written for an adult audience (as in, it actually uses competent language) I read it within a week. I have read it, cover to cover, at least thirty times since I got it at age seven.

So now I'll try and push everything else out of my mind and just read…

It works until I finish all three hundred seventy-four pages an hour and forty minutes later. Of course, I don't feel like reading anymore, so my thoughts drift back to the only thing they seem to focus on. Matt. I groan and shut my eyes, throwing my arm over my head. I would love to know why I can't shake the memory of something meaningless.

What does a kiss _really _mean? Nothing. It's just accepted as the most common sign of intimacy by society. But in reality, it means nothing. It's just a gesture, isn't it? So why, knowing this, did I have to remind, almost force, myself to pull away? Why did I have that moment of complete confusion? My mind collapsed in a jumble of confused, disorganized thoughts over…nothing.

If it really is nothing, logically, rationally, realistically, then why does it feel like _something? _Emotions, feelings, thoughts… those are all illogical and unrealistic. Those are what conjure up fabricated ideas that don't mean a damn thing. So seriously. What the fuck.

All this rather philosophical thinking is giving me a headache. I'm a student; it shouldn't matter to me what something as stupid and accepted as a damn kiss _means. _Good God. Why the Hell am I over thinking something unimportant like this?

Oh, right, because it won't leave me alone anyway.

Maybe the best thing is to just let my mind wander and sort through all of what happened yesterday. I keep interrupting myself; maybe I'm getting in the way of my reasoning. It's possible, and it's worth a try…

I roll back onto my stomach again, laying my head on my arms, letting the soft cotton of my pillow block the light from my window. I sigh and let my mind wander freely, without stopping myself. I'm not sure exactly when, but eventually I doze off and my thoughts morph into dreams.

_Her face is so pale, like a sheet of paper. All the color of her cheeks is gone, the pale peach of her skin. I hold my small hand out for comparison, surprised by how much darker even my skin looks in contrast to hers. My eyes travel over her body, arranged peacefully in a dress and shawl, with her blonde hair arranged loosely around her face and her make up done to make her appear as if she is still living, breathing, as if her heart is still pumping blood._

_ They cannot fool me. I know she is dead. Whilst our small gathering of family and friends sheds tears and give their condolences and comforts, only I understand what has happened here._

_ "Ya sozhaleyu o vashey potere," they all say, or something along the lines of such. Why are they apologizing again, and again? How does that help? How does that do _anything? _It doesn't. I want to scream at them to stop apologizing, to stop crying, and see what has happened here._

_ Agnesse Keehl is dead. A cold stone cannot replace her; she cannot be brought back into our lives by putting her into the ground. My Mama… she is gone. All you people, crying, consoling each other, apologizing for her death. Just stop it! Mama is gone, even though all you people said, "She will be okay. She is fighting." Liars. I was lied to._

_ Mama knew me, loved me, cared for me like no one else. What is the world without her?_

My vision shifts as the dream flits through other memories and random creations of my subconscious, refusing to land on and stick to one subject. Matt recurs through my dreams, just as he has through my conscious thoughts.

When I wake up again, blinking in slight confusion, my face turns into a small scowl when I fully wake up.

I'm never going to figure this all out.

. . .

Apparently, Matt is sick.

When I texted him, Misa replied saying that Matt was sleeping, sick with something. I told her it was probably because she made me kiss him yesterday.

_So ur still thinking about that, huh? _I can practically hear her giggle.

_No, just pointing it out._

She answers quickly. _Rite._ _Sorry, I rlly g2g. _

I don't bother replying, but I vaguely wonder why Misa had to go so suddenly. I know for a fact that she is perfectly content to chat for hours. How often have we walked to and from school with her chatting on the phone or texting Light? Pretty much every day.

I'm still pissed that we walked in on Light and Lawliet making out behind the school building. I don't have a good reason to be annoyed by it, but I am. They're supposed to be practically geniuses, and yet…

_Oh, whatever. _I pocket my phone and go about shutting Aleksei up with a bowl of food. He hops up on the counter, mewling with anticipation.

"Glupyy kot," I murmur, batting him away and setting his food on the floor. He meows indignantly, pushing my hand away with his head and going for the food. "Vy budete tolstetʹ, a zatem Kata poluchite vse vashi yedy," I warn him, returning the bag of kitty food to its place in the cabinet. He ignores me and continues shoveling food into his mouth like the fat ass he is. Cats are supposed to be lithe and agile, but Aleksei doesn't seem to understand that.

Instead of returning to my room, I head to the door that leads outside into the backyard. I open it, shivering as the cold air blasts into the house. Despite the chill and my bare feet, I step out onto the single, snow dusted step and shut the door behind me.

It's not snowing anymore, but after last night the garden is covered in a blanket of undisturbed, glittering snow. The only thing that breaks the smooth, fluffy coat of white is the small cat tracks that cross here and there. I call softly for Kata, and a few moments later, she comes trotting through the snow, the white powder clinging to her head and tail. She meows, and I pick her up.

It's cold out here, but I'm used to it. I like it. Anyway, Russia is far cooler than it is here. I grew up in a colder climate, and I'm used to it even after years of living here, where it snows less and remains relatively warmer. I stand there for a few moments more before turning and opening the door with one hand, still holding Kata with the other arm. As soon I get inside, she leaps from my grasp and pads over to Aleksei, who has already finished his meal.

"Zhir zadnitsu," I tell him, smirking as he looks up at me, hoping for more. When he realizes he's not getting any, he turns and patters down the hall, probably to curl up on my bed and sleep again. Kata follows him, eager to curl up with her brother.

Cats get a lot of hate. Yeah, they're the bitchiest animals available, but they can be awfully nice to have around. Especially at night, or when you're sick. Unlike a dog, they don't need to be walked and they don't need constant attention, but they will cuddle and play when they feel like it.

They're still pissy little bastards, though.

I hear footsteps coming down the hall, and Baba appears in the kitchen doorway, her hair tied back.

"Ya sobirayusʹ sdelatʹ obed. Vy khotite chto-nibud?"

I shake my head. "Ya yel to vremya kak vy spali." She always falls asleep before lunch; it's part of her daily routine. My grandmother is big on health and routine.

"Hm."

I help her with food for herself, even though I'm not eating. When it's done, I sit across the table from her, propping my chin in my hand. My hair falls over my eyes, and I brush it back behind my ear.

"Vy dolzhny sokratitʹ vashi volosy," she says for the hundredth time, eyeing my hair with distaste. "Ty pokhozha na devushku."

I roll my eyes. "Ya ne delayu." Baba doesn't really approve of my slightly ambiguous (okay, pretty ambiguous) appearance. But it's not really my hair; I look so much like my mother that she tends to see her in me.

She doesn't come right out and say it, but I know she does.

Baba is pretty accepting of pretty much everything. When I was little, I would run to her with my problems, looking for advice, looking for someone who would listen. Mama could be that person, but as a child I knew that my grandmother had seen far more than my mother. She was old, she was wise. Typical of an elder.

I wonder what she would make of the things running through my head at the moment. Would she approve of me giving in and kissing Matt? Probably not. Would she be able to make sense of me unable to forget it? Maybe… she would probably have something to say about it, but for some reason I can't bring myself to ask her. I usually can tell her anything, knowing she won't judge. She's the type of person people like confessing to, because she is open minded about almost everything. Although, if you boiled kittens, ate them, then killed children with their sharpened bones I doubt she'd be unbiased.

That was the single most disturbing example I could come up with, I think. I'm not creepy at all.

"Akh, da, ya khotel by sprositʹ vas o drugom ... Matt, eto bylo?"

I feel myself automatically tense up. "A pochemu vy sprashivayete?" I ask, keeping my voice casual. It's weird that she would bring Matt up right when I can't stop thinking about him.

She hesitates, which is something I don't think I've ever seen her do. But it's not an uncertain pause, rather a critical one. She looks at me, eyes narrowed slightly, before continuing. "On, kazhetsya, chtoby sdelatʹ vas schastlivymi . Vy lyubite yego mnogo, ne tak li?"

I blink a few times, slightly confused. "Chto vy imeyete v vidu? On moy luchshiy drug, ne tak li?"

She nods. "Vy gorazdo svobodney vokrug nego , chem s kem-libo yeshche, chto ya videl vas."

"Hm. On po-drugomu, ya dumayu... Ne razdrazhayet," I murmur, tracing the little lines in the tablecloth.

Baba gets up, picking up her plate. "Vy dolzhny derzhatʹ yego blizko."

I look at her, confused, but she doesn't say any more. I sigh to myself and decide that I will take her advice, even if I don't quite get it. When she says something, she means it. Baba can be blunt, but she never elaborates or sugar coats.

Yeah, I'm not going to bring up what happened on Friday.

But I really wish I could figure out why I can't just push it aside and forget it.

**Now I shall give you all want… **

**Matt POV**

I just wish I could die. Dying sounds nice right now. Being dead doesn't _hurt. _And hurt is about all I feel right now, on so many levels.

The most obvious is the physical pain. I can feel the spots of sharp and dull aches all over my body, concentrating on my arms, shoulders, and chest. Oh, and my head. My head hurts like a bitch. And then there are the burns. Cigarettes hurt. Especially when pressed onto your skin by a furious, drunken man who wants nothing more that to take all his anger out on you.

But there's more, so much more. I cannot erase his words from my mind, I can't stop them from ringing in my ears. Every one of them was true, weren't they? I _am _a fucking _pathetic, _stupid little bastard, aren't I? I'm a _worthless faggot, _according to Carl.

It hurts because he means it, and it hurts because he's right.

He ripped my goggles off of my face, leaving my eyes free to betray everything in my head. I wish I had them, but I can't move from my spot against the corner, my knees bent, my arms resting on them. My head hangs down, leaning against the other wall to my left. My hair has fallen over my eyes, and I let it stay there. Anything to hide them again.

I don't want to open those betraying tools of vision, and I don't want to move. It will hurt if I do. It hurts if I don't. My eyes open anyway, staring at the carpet underneath me. It's all blurry, dark around the edges. He almost knocked me out. I think. It's all a haze of confusing pain.

Is that my blood on my sleeve? It looks like blood, red against the white and blue of my shirt. I'm bleeding? Probably.

I want to bleed to death. No more pain, no more bullshit, no more punches adding bruises on top of fading bruises on top of the memories of bruises, and no more confused, pain-ridden haze.

No more hurting. That sounds nice…

I hear footsteps coming my way, and I instinctively shy away. Carl stormed off into his room after he was through with me, probably to drink some more. I don't know how long ago that was. An hour? Ten minutes? A day?

The footsteps are softer, though, Mari's footsteps. Or are they Misa's?

They stop in front of me, and she kneels down, reaching tentatively out. I whimper and try to get away from her. I don't want to be touched ever, ever again. _Please don't touch me. Everything hurts, _I want to tell her, beg her. But I don't think I know how to talk right now.

"Mail," Mari murmurs. "You need to let me help you. Let me help you."

_No. Leave me alone. I don't want to move. _I feel slight pressure on my shoulder, her fingertips lightly alerting me of her wish to assist. Unfortunately, that shoulder hurts. I let out a small, strangled noise at this. I _don't _want to be _touched. _

"Mail, just come with me, okay? You need to move." Her voice is soft and insistent, but I really don't want to move…

"Here," she murmurs, holding out my goggles. "I'll let you have these if you'll come with me. I'll put them on for you."

I can't resist this; I feel safest with my eyes hidden. I move my head and let her slip them on, over my eyes. She carefully pulls my hair out from under them and avoids hitting the bruise I know is forming on my right cheek, just below my eye. She grabs my hand, one of the few things on my body that are not aching or sending sharp signals of _fuck this, this fucking hurts like a fucking bitch goddammit _every time I move. I carefully stand with her help, but no amount of caution can keep me from hissing in pain.

Mari murmurs apologetically even though none of this is her fault (it's mine), gently leading me down the hall. I follow her blindly, ending up somehow in my room, and I curl up automatically on my bed, my knees brought up to my chest. This is how it always is. I would stay there, unmoving, if Mari didn't pick me up each time and force me to move to my bed. If she didn't, I might never get up from my spot on the wall.

My eyes finally fall on her face, and I let out a gasp. I automatically push myself up, wincing at the stab of pain this causes. My entire body protests to the sudden movement, to movement at all, but I'm somewhat distracted by the mark forming on Mari's face. A large bruise has taken root on her jaw, and the few scraps of persisting anger still in me suddenly grow and breed, filling me with rage.

Mari is not supposed to take Carl's anger. Mother and Mari are not supposed to be the subject of his punches, of his angry beating. That is why I am here. I'm here to take it all instead of them. Carl has hardly ever left a mark as bad as the one on my cousin on either of them before. He's done it, but it's rare. It makes me mad, even though I don't have the energy to be angry.

"Mari, your face…" I manage, my voice slightly shaky. Her fingers brush over the mark on her jaw.

"Mail, this is nothing. I've been hurt worse than this before. Hush and lie down," she whispers, very carefully pressing me down again. I can't stay angry right now; I just want to sleep to make the pain go away.

"He's angry, Mail. That's why he hit Mother and me. But don't worry; we're okay. Just stay here. I'll bring you some pain medicine, okay? He's passed out, so he won't know." With that, she leaves my room. I don't want meds; I just want to sleep.

I close my eyes and cur my head down, covering the side of my face with my hand. My fingers curl into my hair, and I stay like that, trying to hide and block everything out. I'm almost asleep when Mari returns, and I hear her set something on my nightstand. A moment later, the blanket settles lightly over me, blocking out any light. I try to sink into the shadowy darkness and hope that I just disappear in my sleep.

It's doubtful that I'll get my wish.

. . .

When I wake up from my very fitful sleep, it's dark outside. I know this because no light filters in through the fabric of my blanket. And the house is dead quiet. There is almost no noise whatsoever, just the occasional creak of wood. I lift my head, wincing at the pain the causes, my fingers slipping out of my hair, and look at my clock. It's three in the morning.

I do my best to ignore the pain as I uncurl and push the blanket off of me, slide my feet onto the floor, and walk somewhat blindly to the bathroom. I shut the door, lock it, and hesitate before flipping the light switch beneath my fingers.

It hurts to walk, it hurts just to exist. Do I really want to see the bruises causing me all of this aching? No, but I'm going to at some point. I turn the light son and stare at my reflection grimly.

For a second, all I can do is stare. It's been a while since I've seen dark bruises breaking the paleness of my skin. I hesitantly pull my goggles off, finding slight impression left by the rim.

Looking at things through an orange filter is so much easier than looking at things in real life. It's like my games; when it's pixellated, it's easy to deal with. But when it's real…

My face is a mess. I have a bruise across my right cheek just under my eye, one on my jaw on the same side, and the blood I noticed earlier through the haze came from my mouth. The red liquid has dried in the right corner of my mouth.

I think… that bastard punched my fucking tooth out. On the right side, fourth one on the bottom. I trace my finger over the foreign gap, staring at the reflection of my mouth with an expression of mixed awe, shock, and anger. That was my tooth. I liked that tooth, you know. It was useful for things like eating.

I'm pretty sure that's a necessity to human survival.

There are other bruises peeking out from the collar of my shirt. I hesitate with this as well prior to pulling it off of my body. I glance at the mirror, and find myself unable to look away.

The worst of it all is scattered over my collar, shoulders, and the sides and front of my chest and stomach. The bruises trail down my arms from where he grabbed me and held too tightly, and when I turn, trailing across my back, shoulder blades, and the base of my neck where Carl groped for a hold. When he found one, he clenched until I bled inside.

My eyes trail over all the discolorations on my pale skin. There is a particularly painful one on my right shoulder, on the side of my chest, and on my right hip from when Carl threw me to the ground, and I'm pretty much sore everywhere.

And then there's the slight burns on my arms. He's burned me before, it's really nothing new. I have scars from the times he's stuck his cigarette to my skin, held it there until I cry out a moment later, or held his lit lighter to me until it leaves a burn. He's never scorched me bad enough for it to be dangerous, but they still hurt. They still scar.

He likes to mark my shoulders and the ridges of my collarbone. So he can see them when my shirt slips. He likes knowing that he's hurting me.

All of this, inflicted against my will. All of this pain caused by someone else. I have no control_._ I want to be able to stop it when it gets to be too much. But I can't.

I am deserving of this, though. Aren't I? At least it puts me to use. Otherwise, I really would just be sitting here, taking up space. I can handle pain so my sister and mother feel less of it. I am worthless otherwise. No, I still am, but it puts my worthlessness to use. I can't escape it or stop it anyway, so I might as well see the truth in it.

But why is my breath hitching in my throat? Why are my eyes blurring, stinging with tears? I have no reason to cry. I'm used to this. I grew up with it! We should have known we couldn't escape Dad. It was worth a try, but we were stuck anyway, not moving forward, unable to move back. Or at least I was.

I think it's the sight of the bruises on my skin, the realization that he found us finally is registering. I swallow back the choked feeling in my throat and stare at the reflection of my eyes in the mirror, one hand on either side of the sink. Dark blue eyes stare back at me, looking dull. Hollow. I hide these eyes for a reason, these traitors. They tell every emotion inside me to the world with their blue depths.

The bruises on my face remind me of the one on Mari's. I'm supposed to take that pain for her. She's not supposed to hurt. I'm the only one broken, let's keep it that way. Mari and Mother should get out of this. They don't deserve it.

_ I'm pathetic. Really, if I were not, why would he do this? He wouldn't have a reason to hit if I wasn't worthless. _I glare at the image of myself reflecting back at me, hating it more and more with each beat of my heart. Suddenly, I tear my eyes away and go rather painfully to my room. I don't need the light on to find my razor; I know exactly where it is. I take it from its hiding place and return to the bathroom, re-locking the door on my way it. I wince as I sit on the counter by the sink, the sore spots protesting to the movement.

For a moment, reason and logic put everything on halt. Why am I doing this? This isn't good. I'm only hurting myself more. And do I deserve it? No. Why do I think that?

But that lasts for only a second, before reality comes and slaps them in the face. Don't be stupid. It will hurt, yes, but it's a different kind of pain. And yes, I do deserve it, really. It may not seem like it to a normal person, but I do.

Things without worth should be thrown out, or treated without care, shouldn't they? I'm like the soda can you find on the ground and don't even bother picking up, you just kick it real good and send it out of your way. You never think of that bit of insignificant trash that has no value to its name again.

My blood is crimson against the pallor of my skin, and toned down in contrast to the dark and faint bruises alike. The pain of a cut is much sharper than the dull ache of bruises. It clears my mind and numbs all else. It is the best distraction available to me right now.

A tiny voice in the back of my mind, one that views this from another perspective, comments on how devastating this is.

. . .

Mari called in sick for me, and tells me that she also told Mello that I'm not feeling well. Honestly, I'm sitting on my bed, testing what hurts the most and what I can do without wincing in pain. The answer is: not much.

"He told me that it's probably because we made him kiss you yesterday," Mari informs me softly.

My heart skips a beat at the memory. God, why must you bring that up? Despite the position we are currently in, I feel my face heating up.

"Why do you bring that up?" my voice is quiet, and the undertone is still wavering a bit.

"He's still thinking about it. That's what it means."

Carl is gone, probably at a bar, and Mother is asleep, but that doesn't stop us from acting as if he is in the next room. It's kind of sad that we're falling right back into our usual pattern of keeping quiet and relatively solitary in our own home.

I glare at her, rubbing my shoulder. The pain meds are starting to kick in, and ice does really help a lot. "That doesn't mean anything, Mari."

She smiles slightly. "Are you telling me that you don't care at all about what happened?"

"Yes," I lie. Mari shakes her head.

"I doubt that."

I pull my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around my legs and resting my chin on my knees. The movement is uncomfortable, but the pain from the many small bruises is already gone. It's just the big ones, and the burns, that hurt. And where my tooth once was is a bit sore.

Mari had a hard time keeping calm when she noticed the gap.

"Why?"

She hesitates, tilting her head slightly and resting her elbow on the arm of my chair. "You don't think of him as just a friend, do you Mail?"

"Of course I do. The term friend is defined as-"

"I know what friend means," she interrupts, sighing. "You're hopeless, you two. I think you need-"

"Mari. Stop," I command into my knees, letting my knees press my goggles into my eyes. She instantly stops talking.

Doesn't she get it? Mello is more to me than a friend (I don't think she knows that I do, if fact, I am ninety-nine percent sure that no one does). I don't think I can deny it, especially after what happened Friday. But it's not like I can do anything about it.

I'm almost sure that Mello isn't interested in guys. If he found out that I've been lying to him and everyone else, he would hate me (who wouldn't?). And if he did find out the truth about me, how broken I am, he would leave, avoid me. No one wants to deal with someone like me. That's why I was left before, because it's hard to handle broken things without getting cut by the sharp edges.

It's hard not to be scared by things that have been broken again and again until they can't ever be fully fixed again. No one has the time or the strength to fix something like that, let alone someone. I can't even help myself, how could anyone else?

And if I told him, he would just push me away.

There are too many problems. Too many problems.

"Sorry…" she murmurs. "Mail, what do you think is going to happen to us?"

I am silent for a long time. "I…don't know for sure. Things will probably be how they always have been."

"Do you think we'll stay here?"

"Probably. No one knows Dad exists out here, so he's safe from anyone figuring out what he's doing. Maybe he'll have you model again."

"If he doesn't start hitting me like he does to you. I wish I could-"

"No. He hits me so that he doesn't have to hurt you and Mother in my place."

"Mail…"

"It's fine. I've lived with it since I was little, I can live with it now."

There is another long pause. "I hate calling him my father," she finally whispers, her voice shaking with disgust and anger.

"I know. Believe me, I know." There are no words to describe how much we hate him. No words strong and plain enough to describe what he has done to us besides… broken. Even that doesn't cover it.

My hand slips in my sleeve, tracing the various marks made by too-tight holds and razor blades.

Am I fixable, or am I so broken that I can never fully heal again? When will I completely break, snap in half and fall apart?

When, I wonder, will it all be too much?

**Translations**

**God, Google Translate gave me grief on these. Just ignore if it's like, super duper off please.**

Ya sozhaleyu o vashey potere: I'm sorry for your loss._  
_

Gluppy kot: Stupid cat

Vy budete tolstetʹ, a zatem Kata poluchite vse vashi yedy: You'll get fat, and then Kata will get all your food.

Zhir zadnitsu: Fat ass

Ya sobirayusʹ sdelatʹ obed. Vy khotite chto-nibud: I'm making lunch. Do you want anything?

Ya yel to vremya kak vy spali: I ate while you were sleeping.

Vy dolzhny sokratitʹ vashi volosy: You should cut your hair.

Ty pokhozha na devushku:You look like a girl

Ya ne delayu: I do not.

Akh, da, ya khotel by sprositʹ vas o drugom ... Matt, eto bylo: Oh, yeah, i wanted to ask you about your friend... Matt, was it?

A pochemu vy sprashivayete: Why do you ask

On, kazhetsya, chtoby sdelatʹ vas schastlivymi . Vy lyubite yego mnogo, ne tak li: He seems to male you happy. You like him a lot, don't you?

Chto vy imeyete v vidu? On moy luchshiy drug, ne tak li: What do you mean? He is my best friend, is he not?

Vy gorazdo svobodney vokrug nego , chem s kem-libo yeshche, chto ya videl vas: You are a lot more relaxed around him than with anyone else I have seen you with.

Hm. On po-drugomu, ya dumayu... Ne razdrazhayet: Hm. he's different, I think... not annoying.

Vy dolzhny derzhatʹ yego blizko: You must keep him close.

**Next time, instead of using the phonetic version, I'm just going to copy/paste the Russian writing that Google Translate seems to understand better. Translations will still be here, of course!**

**Anyway, that was a fast update, if I do say so myself. **

**You're welcome, all you impatient brats.**

**Just kidding! I love you all to little, itty bitty pieces!**


	11. Reasons

**As I said previously, forget phonetic translations. I'm just going to use exactly what Google Translate gives me, which will be in Russian…writing? Lettering? *Is unsure what word to use* **

**Mello POV**

Matt yawns and raises his arms over his head, leaning back over the arm of my chair. His arms flop down and he looks at me from his upside down position, his legs swinging lazily over the other arm.

And now I _know _what I'm seeing.

"You're missing a tooth," I announce, leaning forward on my bed. He stiffens and shifts into an upright position.

"Huh?" he says, jerking his head to get his hair away from his goggles.

I roll my eyes. "I thought I noticed, but I wasn't sure until you yawned just now. What happened to your tooth?"

Matt raises his hand to the right side of his mouth, frowning slightly. "Um. Nothing."

I roll my eyes. "If it was nothing, then why is it gone?"

He grins sheepishly. "It was loose. That's why."

I blink at him and raise my eyebrows. "_You_ had a loose tooth?"

"Yeah. Uh, my teeth were all messed up and…yeah. I had braces for three years and um… well my mouth is kind of fucked up. It was my last baby tooth and didn't loosen until recently."

"Oh." His explanation makes sense, but for some reason it doesn't quite click with me. "I never had braces, but I heard they're annoying."

"They _are,_" Matt agrees fervently. "I didn't want spots on my teeth, and it was hard enough to keep them clean, so I couldn't... I mean-" suddenly, he cuts him self off with a kind of horrified look on his face. He coughs a few times, looking down and fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "Sorry. Um, never mind."

I frown. _What's with his strange behavior today? He's been tripping over his words and acting kind of nervous. And he moves so carefully. _"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he assures me, still not looking up. Not for the first time, I wish I could see past the orange lenses of his goggles. I let it drop despite my curiosity, and Matt seems relieved.

"So you aren't doing much for Christmas, are you?" I prompt, leaning my chin in my hand. Matt shrugs.

"Well, we're not going anywhere if that's what you mean. We don't usually do much for holidays. It's never been a big thing in my family, I guess."

I nod, but once again, something doesn't seem right. It's like Matt's mindset has changed completely on more than one topic. I know that _something _isn't right, but I can't place it.

And I keep forgetting to look for hints to the reason for this difference, because Matt's hair is kind of distracting, and so is the strip of pale skin that shows when the hem of his shirt moves…

And _moving on…_

Yeah, I still can't get that damn kiss out of my mind, even after four days. It's December twenty-fourth, Wednesday. That stupid, meaningless kiss happened last Friday. It's insignificant, unimportant, and yet I can't forget it.

Logic isn't cooperating with me.

I would say that everything looks ever so slightly different somehow, but how stupid is that? Ridiculously so.

It's a cheesy cliché as well.

"You never said if you're going anywhere. Are you?"

I shake my head. "No, I'm not. It would be nice to go to Russia, seeing as I haven't been in years, but I can't."

"Do you have family there?"

I hesitate. Why does family have to be such a risky subject? These are the people closest to us, why does it have to be so hard to talk about them?

Well, I don't really want these people close to me, so I guess that's a good reason why.

"No," I reply after a moment. "Not anymore. But I did grow up there, and… I don't know, I guess it feels like home."

"I see." Matt spins slowly on the chair, using his feet to turn. "So anyway…"

"Misa said you were sick the other day. You got better quickly, huh?"

Matt nods. "Yeah, which is nice, 'cause I don't really want to be sick on Christmas. That would suck."

"Speaking of Misa, has Light broken up with her yet?"

Matt scowls. "No. He might be waiting until after Christmas, maybe so he doesn't ruin her holiday, but I hope he gets it done soon. Misa has enough…problems." He starts mumbling towards the end of his sentence.

I want to growl with frustration. What is _with _him today? He's constantly cutting himself off or mixing up his words, and he's acting like a bomb will go off if he touches things too quickly or too forcefully. He's acting like… like he's hiding something, something he's worried about. It definitely has to do with his family or home; I've discerned that from what topics he's avoided or ended quickly. The changes are subtle, but I hang around Matt enough to know that something is _not _right.

And it is bugging me like an itch I can't scratch. No, more like a knife stuck between my shoulders, where I can't quite reach. It's annoying me and worrying me a bit, too. Matt seemed happy enough to see me, but he's keeping himself totally closed off today. And I want to know _why. _

It's not like I can ask something like that, because a, I know I'm not going to get a truthful answer and b, you just don't ask that when someone is obviously trying to keep something to themselves.

"Well, a gay boyfriend isn't something she needs to add to any problems, is it?"

"No… It's not," Matt mutters. "I wish he'd have figured things out before getting with her, though. Stupid little..." Suddenly he smirks bitterly and murmurs something to his knees that sounds like, "…be a hypocrite… him a faggot, though..." Of course, he's talking to himself, so I'm not sure what I heard.

"Sorry, what?"

"Nothing. I just don't want him messing with Misa." Well, it was worth a shot.

"Yeah."

I wonder, what does Matt think of homosexuality? He doesn't seem to care much about that factor; more of that he doesn't want his sister to get hurt, which is expected. But other than what I've noticed, he hasn't actually said anything about it.

Matt doesn't seem very interested in relationships in general. The girls have pretty much given up on him, much to his apparent relief. He never showed any interest in their advances; they got more discomfort than anything else in response.

Now that I think about it, there have been a few times when guys have flirted with Matt. The majority of the student population at our school seems to adore their games they make out of their relationships, and one person will go through two love interests in two weeks or less sometimes. Even many of the guys, who are usually far less into romance as the girls, take part in all the ridiculous breaking up and getting back together that goes on. Some of those guys (several of the girls are like this as well) will flirt with literally anyone, and I do mean _anyone. _

I thought it was funny (I still do; the look on Matt's face was priceless) then, but when I think back over it, Matt seemed slightly more comfortable dealing with boys coming on to him than girls, although he wasn't particularly happy either way.

There is something I know for sure right now, and that is that I'm thinking over this way, way, way too much. I'm probably making things up and just going to end up with a headache later.

I sigh and lie back on my bed, letting my arms flop over my stomach. I can feel cool air hitting my skin where my shirt rides up a little bit, but I don't really care.

I'm being really ridiculous, and I know it. But I just can't… get _over _the difference. Something must have clicked in my mind, but I still don't understand it. Something clicked when Misa and Beyond forced me to kiss Matt, and I don't get it. And I don't get why.

Either I'm really stupid or I'm really ignorant, and it's probably both.

Or I'm just over thinking this.

Of course, the likelihood of all three being true is…staggeringly high.

Lovely.

"Hey, I'm bored, you want to go outside?" I suggest, expecting a no. Matt doesn't like snow, after all…

"Sure. Why not."

Okay, maybe I really don't know shit. Or maybe Matt's still sick and he's delusional.

Actually, I think I'm the delusional one.

When I sit up and slip off my bed, I notice that Matt is looking at the floor, blushing slightly. "You okay?"

"Oh, uh, yeah. I'm fine. Let's go," he mutters, standing up and following me out of my room. I stick my head in the kitchen and point towards the door.

"Бабушка, мы собираемся на улицу."

"Не забывайте, ваше пальто," she replies from her spot at the sink, scrubbing dishes with a soapy sponge. I nod once and grab my jacket from the rack. Matt already has his vest on (he insists on wearing it, claiming it to be perfectly fine), and is fitting his hat over his hair. I pull my coat on and part my hair around my neck to keep it from getting tangled in my hood.

"I'm sure you love this," Matt comments when we step outside, gesturing around at the large, fluffy snowflakes falling softly on the already snow covered ground.

I smile slightly, reaching up to catch one. "How can you not?"

Matt scuffs the snow on the ground. "I guess it is kind of pretty," he admits.

"It's very pretty." The flake melts on my glove, its delicate pattern morphing into mush and then a spot of water. "And it's nice when it snows on Christmas."

"It certainly fits the mood."

"And the holiday criteria." Matt laughs, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"Someone's got high expectations."

"Not really. As long as it snows, I'm happy."

"So, I could take your chocolate away for the winter, and you'd be just fine?"

"Don't even try it."

He snickers again. "You're pretty much an addict, you know. Do you go through withdrawal symptoms?"

I shrug. "I don't know. I get pissed when I don't have it, but I'm pretty sure that's as far as it goes."

Matt considers this. "Well, next time you go without your chocolate, if that ever happens, you should look for them. See if you get all shaky or something. That would be interesting."

"I really hope I'm not deprived of my chocolate to the point of withdrawal symptoms."

"That wouldn't be fun for you." He opens his mouth like he's going to add to that, but shuts it again moments later. We wander aimlessly, and I lead him through as many powdery drifts as possible. He skirts around most of them, glaring at me without much actual irritation. "You're a jerk, you kno-ah!" He gasps as he slips on a patch of ice, cutting himself off mid-sentence and crashing to the ground. My arms automatically reach out to catch him, too late of course, and I end up slipping on the ice too and falling along with him.

"Mmf." I wince as I land a bit too hard on my hands and knees, right into the snow and on top of Matt…

This would be one of those totally typical, cheesy moments you see in the movies, except for the fact that movies cut out how much crashing to the hard, frozen ground hurts. It hurts like a bitch.

I think Matt got the worst of it, though. After a frozen half-second of surprise I move off of Matt, and he hisses in pain. His knees bend and he leans forward over them, left hand fluttering around the opposite shoulder and one hand pressed to his right hip. "Fuck, ow," he mutters, scowling.

"Are you alright?" I ask. Stupid question.

"I'm fine, I just landed kind of hard on my right…" he hesitantly moves to stand, wincing as he does so. I hold my hand out and help pull him to his feet. He leans heavily on his left, brushing snow off of his arm.

"Here, let me see," I say, reaching for the collar of his vest to pull it back and check his shoulder. Before my hand gets hold of the cream-colored collar, Matt hastily steps away from me, shaking his head.

"I'm fine, really. Stupid ice. See, this is why I'm not a big fan of winter," he says, cracking a smile.

But he looks like he's in more pain than he's letting on, and I narrow my eyes. "Alright, if you're sure you're fine…"

"I am," he repeats. "You fell too, are you alright?"

I am now aware of a dull ache in my knees and hands, which got the brunt of the impact. But it's ignorable. "Yeah. Come on, let's try to _avoid _the ice now."

"Sounds like a plan." We start back towards my house, walking more carefully. It takes me about two seconds to realize that Matt is limping slightly, avoiding putting all his weight on his right foot.

I turn around to face him and stop, arms crossed. "If you're limping, I seriously doubt the truth in you saying that you're fine."

Matt rolls his eyes. "I just fell kind of hard, but it's not like I've shattered any bones or something. And it's nothing I'm not...I mean like, I've had worse before, so compared to that it's not that bad." He shrugs. "Stop worrying."

"If you fall because you're limping like that and not letting me help, I'm going to yell 'I told you so' right in your face," I warn him. He snorts.

"If I fall, it's not because I'm hurt, it's because of all this damn snow," he retorts, walking past me. "I'm going to step into a deep drift and trip…" he stumbles in a pile of snow. "Exactly like that!" he gestures.

I smirk, tramping after him. "Fine then, your Highness. If the snow is bothering you then…" I'm not sure where the idea came from, but before I can think better of it I've already picked Matt up off his feet, bridal style. Matt gasps at the sudden movement, and he freezes for a second with surprise. "...Why walk?" It's kind of impossible not to crack up at the expression on his face.

"What the…what the fucking hell are you doing?" he demands.

Okay, good question.

"Ever acted on a whim before?"

Matt tries to squirm out of my arms, but I don't let him. He looks up at me. "You're saying that you just randomly though, 'I'm going to pick this guy up without any warning or second thoughts'?"

"Kind of. But look at this, you're not bitching about the snow like a spoiled princess anymore."

"I was _not _bitching like a spoiled princess. But me down, asshole," he grumbles.

"No, I think I like carrying you. If you bother me I can just drop you in a pile of snow and leave you there."

"I can walk fine on my own, thanks. I don't need you doing it for me."

"Says the person who almost fell again a second ago."

He doesn't have a very good retort on hand for that one. "You're an asshole, Mello."

"So you've said." I start walking, ignoring his protests. "You know, you're really light. How much do you weigh?"

Matt crosses his arms. "One-hundred fifteen. Pounds. Dunno how many kilos that is."

"Bull shit, you can't weigh more than ninety. God you're _light._ Do you even eat?"

"No, I absorb nutrients. I'm an amoeba. Of course I eat, dumbass." His arms are still crossed, and he's looking ahead at my house as I carry him towards it.

Seriously though, there's no way Matt is more than forty kilograms, ninety pounds, however you want to measure it. He's obviously really thin, and not super tall, but now that I'm actually lifting him up, he seems a lot lighter than he should be.

"Was carrying me the whole way really necessary?" Matt grumbles when I set him upright in front of my house.

"I don't think you want to walk around on snow and ice and concrete after you fell, do you?"

"You didn't have to carry me to the freaking door, Mello." Kata pads through the snow up to him, rubbing against his leg and purring. He bends over and picks her up, and she curls in his arms.

I ignore him and open the already unlocked door. "Мы вернулись," I call. "Мэтт упал."

"Он в порядке?" Baba calls from the kitchen.

"да." Matt comes in after me and Kata leaps from his arms. I unzip my jacket and he hangs his vest on the hook, seeming to forget the hat on his head.

He's still limping. It's not obvious, but he is. "See? You're still limping. Did you really want to limp through all of that?"

"…No, I guess not," he mutters after a moment.

"I thought so," I say, satisfied.

"But seriously, you of all people? I didn't expect you to be the carry-the-helpless-one type of person."

"I'm pretty sure that's not an official classification."

"You're impossible."

"Your _mom_ is impossible."

"Wow, your mom jokes now? I call imposter. What have you done with my friend?" Matt jokes, returning to his spot in my chair. "You're acting weird today."

I flop down on my bed, and the mattress squeaks in protest. "So are you."

Matt sighs. "True."

I'm a bit surprised that he doesn't bother claiming otherwise or disagreeing. "Why _are _you acting so off today, anyway? I've wondered that."

He twirls his sleeve uncertainly. "I guess I'm just not totally better yet or something; I'm kind of out of it a bit."

Lie. Lie, lie, _lie. _I really want to snap at him to just tell me what's really going on for once, but I doubt that's going to help anything.

Suddenly Matt's phone goes off. He pulls it out of his back pocket and checks it. "Oh, I have to leave. And _no, _you don't have to carry me home. I'm pretty sure I'll be fine."

I raise an eyebrow. "Alright, if you say so."

We leave my room and head back towards the door. Both Kata and Aleksei follow after Matt.

"Why the heck do your cats love me so much?"

I shrug and hand him his vest. He slips it on and opens the door, letting cold air blast in.

"Merry Christmas," I say, smiling.

"Yeah, merry Christmas to you too." He smiles as well, but something about his smile is not merry.

So much for Christmas spirit.

**Matt POV**

Damn Mello and his random picking people up antics. Damn him and his perceptive observation skills. And snow can melt in hell for all I care. That shoulder was already bruised enough, thank you very much. So was my hip.

Ouch.

And Mello doesn't get why I don't like snow. Gee, maybe because I've spent most of my time in it (which hasn't been very much, considering I hardly ever used to be around snow) without warm anything and locked out of the house overnight.

Also because snow means ground that gives under you and ice that makes you slip and fall on your already injured side.

Okay, I think I'm being a bit too bitter. Snow is an inanimate object, and Mello didn't do anything. Mostly I'm just mad at myself.

How obvious have I made it that something isn't right? I nearly admitted to smoking (well, once smoking) and that I'm used to being hurt in less than an hour. I don't need other people knowing these things. Real smooth, Matt.

It doesn't help that my heart decided that its spot in my chest is _so _not the place to be when Mello literally swept me off of my feet. It took off so fast I thought it was going to override itself and short-circuit.

Except, people don't work that way. We aren't computers. I wish we were, because computers I understand, and people not so much. People are weird, predictable, and yet completely spontaneous and dodgy. People have secrets, and every last one is different and thinks a different way. While computers are all different, they all "think" in more or less the same way.

And computers don't keep secrets, lie to you, or hurt you. And you don't develop crushes on computers.

See why I like technology so much?

And then there's the Internet. That really is like a different world, kind of, one where you can do whatever you want and remain anonymous. This is both a good and bad thing.

I'm kind of scared to come home. If I turned the other way, I could go find someone to get the police to come get Carl. I could've told Mello everything; he did ask me what's going on with me, didn't he? For one second I think like this, but then reality turns on the lights.

Hah, what am I thinking? What could Mello do, and why should he do anything? I've been lying to him, after all. And whom on earth would I get to help? I'd just make things worse for Mari and Mother. I can't be stupid like that.

I sigh, rubbing my shoulder. The pain has faded, but the dull ache is definitely worse than before. I really hope Carl isn't mad when I get home. I hope he's not drunk. I really hope…Oh, what's the use of hoping? I should just hurry and get back.

When I get home, Mother is in the kitchen, cooking quietly, and Mari is not in sight. Carl is sitting on the couch, sprawled out and watching television with a cigarette in his mouth and a bottle of beer in his hand. There aren't any empty ones lying around, meaning he's probably still mostly sober.

The door shuts quietly behind me. I take off my vest and hat and hang them on the rack in the entrance hall. I hope to slip into my room without notice, but luck must not be on my side today.

"Hey, kid, get your ass over here."

I swallow back a sigh and walk tentatively over to Carl. "Can I help you?" I ask.

"Don't talk back to me, boy!"

"Sorry," I mutter. I was seriously asking, dumbass.

But arguing with him is pointless.

And painful.

"Damn right you are. Now, tell me where the fuck were you?"

"I was nowhere, just outside."

"Why the hell were you outside?"

"I, um, just wanted to be out there…"

"Since when does what you want mean anything?" he growls, glaring at me and taking another swig of beer.

I clench my fist and girt my teeth, trying not to appear angry. "It doesn't. It never has."

"Exactly. Now get outta my face, fag. And don't leave the house again unless _I _put you there. And take those fucking goggles off!"

I turn away from him, scowling ahead of me. I pad through the house into my room, ignoring the fading ache in my hip. I wish I had a lock on my door. It'd be nice to shut him out and shut him out _good._

I sit on my bed and let myself fall to the side. The mattress pushes my goggles askew, and I push them into my hair, away from my eyes. Everything looks a little green after the orange tint from the lenses.

Everything looks a lot more real, too. And that's kind of frightening. I mean, look at this mess I live in. It's easier to look at it through something, like lenses, than see it for how it really is.

I think that a lot of people would have run away by now, most people, actually. But what about the people in my family who I do like, Mari and Mother? I would feel guilty, leaving them behind to deal with Carl.

But then again, aren't I the reason for all of the problems we face? The one our father really hates is _me_, so why not just get rid of myself?

…The first time I thought about killing myself, a moment later I tried to push that idea out of my head forever. Suicide isn't an answer, I had told myself. But the thought kept returning every once and a while, and each time it seemed to make a little more sense. And each time, things were worse than they had been the last.

I've gotten to the point where I'm looking at the knives in the kitchen, wondering how much I would bleed before I passed out, and I've gotten so close to swallowing the bottle of sleeping pills in the cabinet, and I had half a mind to hang myself last year.

But something always pulls me out of it. Something always brings me to my senses. I always can find one more reason to live at least a little longer.

_So how long is it going to be, then? How many more times am I going to think about it, but not do it? How many more reasons to live do I have? _

I run through my list. I made a mental list a few years ago, one of the times I seriously tried to bring myself out of depression. One of the few times I almost succeeded. I haven't actually tried in… two years. If I'm not even trying anymore, how can I expect anyone to care? But…I must be trying, at least a little bit, because I still have my list. And that list has changed, and that list has shortened dreadfully. But I do still have it, although I'm loosing it. It's slowly being forgotten and erased. It's very rare now that things get added to it.

I have something new to add, though, don't I. Don't I? I know it's hopeless, I know it's pointless, but anything that makes me happy should go on there, shouldn't it?

So I'm adding Mello to my list.

**Translations**

Бабушка, мы собираемся на улицу: Grandma, we're going out.

Не забывайте, ваше пальто: Don't forget your coat.

Мы вернулись: We're back.

Мэтт упал: Matt fell

Он в порядке: Is he okay

Да: Yes

**Oh, dear LORD the OOCness of this chapter! GOD MELLO WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?**

**Well, I HAD to do that pick-Matt-up-and-carry-him moment…I though tit was funny and fluffy. Like a bunny with a carrot. **

**Yeah, GREAT analogy.**

**Well, I apologize for the OOCness, but it was a nice scene.**

**And Mello noticed a lot, didn't he? He's so ignorant!**

**And…I'm writing him like that. Tee hee!**

**KYAH KYAH KYAH…Ryuk laugh for good measure. **


	12. Trying

**Matt POV**

"Sorry for making you come today," Cecil says for the umpteenth time.

"I told you, I don't mind. I have nothing better to do, and I like it here." It's true, the café is a better alternative to home, and it really is impossible not to be at least a bit uplifted here. It's just so damn _happy _here.

"Still, it's only a few days after Christmas, and it's your break."

It's not very busy today, because, according to Sheryl, the people who aren't on vacation like to rest after all the holiday "hubbub". But the first shipment of the new year (which officially starts tomorrow night) has arrived, and that means there's a lot of stacking and sorting to do.

"What, are you complaining? Don't we have stacking to do?"

She smiles. "Yeah, we do. And we need your man-strength to do it."

I roll my eyes. "I'm not very strong."

"Nonsense. You're probably stronger than I am, at least," she rebuffs with a wave of he hand. "And I can't have Alec do it. He'd probably hurt himself, and everyone within three meters of him."

"Probably," I agree. Alec is nice and has good intentions, but with his awful balance and constant lack of attention (he spaces out almost more than I do) he tends to create disasters. "But I think Cory is the guy you want if you're planning on lifting things."

"He's a monster," Cecil agrees. "But he's in Hawaii at the moment."

"That far away, huh?"

"Yup. Apparently, he's helping baby sharks."

I kind of have to laugh at that. It's ridiculously perfect. Cory is one of those typical "many men" who are made of metal and muscle and general badassness, and he'd be the type of person to do dangerous things, like helping sharks. But baby sharks…that's kind of ironic, really.

Cecil continues as we head to the back. "He claims it's actually a somewhat dangerous job, but I find it hard to believe that."

"Yeah," I agree. We walk down the short hall to the back door. Cecil opens it and steps out into the back lot, where the truck is unloading boxes of ground coffee and other supplies.

"Hoo, it's cold," Cecil mutters. I nod.

"Hey, there you two are," Sheryl calls, a large box in her arms. "Come help carry these into the storage room!"

I lift a box from the top of the growing stack. A trucker sets another one down next to me as I do so. It isn't too heavy, perfectly manageable, so I follow Sheryl and Cecil into the back room.

It causes the fading bruises on my arms to remind me of their presence a little, but I ignore it.

"Who's managing the customers?" Sheryl inquires.

"Alec, Carter, and Lorrie," I fill her in, setting my box down in the storage room next to hers.

"Oh, good." She goes back through the door into the cold outside, and I follow her. We bring the boxes in one by one until all of them are unloaded and in the storage room, waiting to be sorted and stored. The truck drives off, and we shut the back door to keep the cold out. The storage room is chilly as it is.

Sheryl starts putting the stuff that needs to be kept frozen or chilled, like the whipped cream, into the freezer, while Cecil and I begin storing the packages of coffee and other dry ingredients. The storage room is laid out so there are long rows of shelves that go to the ceiling (which is pretty low, but still requires a step stool), with different section for each product. It's kind of impressive, and the sisters have put a lot of time into it.

"Hey, Matt, could you reach up there and put these on the top shelf for me?" Cecil asks handing me some ground coffee beans.

"Sure." I take them from her and slide the step stool over with my foot. It's a bit of a stretch for me, but I manage to get them there. My sleeves slip down past my wrists, and hastily push them down again.

I'm not fast enough, though.

"Matt, what's on your arm?" Cecil asks when I step down.

"Um, nothing. Why?" I mutter, pushing my right sleeve down further.

She frowns at me. "Let me see, Matt," she demands. I open my mouth, hesitating. I wait just a little too long, and Cecil looses her patience and takes my wrist, holding it firmly so I can't pull back.

I look away as she pulls the fabric back just past the first of the scars I don't have to look at to see. I hear her sigh quietly, but she doesn't sound…surprised. I still don't look at her. I don't really want to know her reaction.

Cecil releases my wrist, and I quickly slip my sleeve down. "Why do you _do _that to yourself, Matt?" she asks. Her voice is quiet, almost weary.

"I don't anymore." It's pointless to say that, as anyone with a bit of common sense can see that some of those are recent, but it's my automatic response.

"No. I've seen old cuts. Those are a few days old at most. I ask you again, _why?_"

I am silent for a while, trying to think of a way to explain my reasons without sounding…pathetic. There really isn't. "It's…I'd rather not," I murmur in response, "…have to explain everything. It's all really screwed up."

She sighs again. "I know that it's difficult, but you really should stop. You're going to look at those marks years from now and wish you hadn't. That's what happened to me." I glance at her in surprise. Cecil is the last person I would have expected to cut or have cut, but I guess you never know. She looks at me sincerely. "It helps to talk, Matt. I'm not saying spill your guts out right here and now, but you should think about talking to someone. You'd be surprised how much easier it is to deal with things when people are helping you."

"I…I'm working on things." That's not true, not really. I'm not "working on things". I'm just sucking it up.

She nods. "Alright, that's good. This is what everyone will tell you, but it does actually get better. That's not just some slogan they use as inspiration. It's the truth. But you have to talk to people."

"Thanks, Cecil," is all I can think of to say. She shakes her head.

"You thank yourself when you get out of…whatever it is you're in."

With that, she turns away from me with the now empty box and returns to the pile, giving me a moment to think.

She's right; I really should tell _someone _what's going on. There is a twisted alcoholic ruling and wrecking more than one person's life, including mine. How is it _my _fault?

But… telling someone would mean revealing that I've lied this whole time. That they don't really know me. Who would want to listen then? And telling someone would make Carl mad, madder than ever. He wouldn't just hit me, he'd probably hurt Mari and Mother too. I'm supposed to take his anger for them, and that's why I'm still there, isn't it? And then it _would _be my fault.

And I'm the one just taking it all, not fighting against my depression. It's ruling my life, isn't it? No one would help someone who _isn't trying. _

So no, I don't think I'm going to tell anyone.

But I will take her advice, or at least try to. I'll try not to cut. After all, isn't that just feeding my depression?

Why should I keep fueling the fire that's burning down the city?

. . .

Smoking is really, really bad for you. It absolutely destroys your lungs and respiratory system. It stains your teeth, and you can get some pretty nasty coughs. You can get lung, throat, and mouth cancer from smoking. That can kill you, especially lung cancer.

If it's so horrible to one's health, then why do people smoke? No, a better question is why do they _start_? Well, there are many different reasons for that, and for each person it's different. For me, it's because of my father. He got me on cigarettes when I was about seven, maybe eight. He smokes, at least a pack a day. But he wanted me, no more of made me, to smoke. Maybe it would kill me and I wouldn't be around to screw things up for him anymore.

Obviously, I'm still alive now. And the smart thing to do would be to stay away from cigs. But that's hard, because now I have Carl walking around, blowing smoke in my face.

Once people start, it's hard to stop. You get reliant on the nicotine, and even just the feeling of having something in your mouth eventually becomes comforting. Once you get addicted, it feels like it would be the hardest thing in the world to quit. It isn't, but it is difficult to quit, especially if you're going cold turkey.

I stopped. Hardly a month after we got here, I stopped. It would be smart to stay off of the cancer inducing sticks of nicotine. And that is why I'm probably the stupidest person in the world at the moment. I _know _these are bad for me. I _know _I'm throwing my health down the drain. But that's not doing much to stop me.

I flick my lighter to life and put the tiny flame to the cigarette in my mouth. Mother won't be happy.

Oh well.

I slip my lighter into my pocket and lean back against the kitchen counter. The condition of the house has drastically changed since Carl got here. Before, it was worn down, but well-kept. Now, there are bottle caps, cigarette butts, and a few empty bottles that once held alcohol scattered around. Even with Mari, Mother, and I picking up after him Carl still manages to leave a mess.

At the moment, he's taken Mari to some office building somewhere to try to strike up a modeling deal again. She will be happy to model again (it takes her mind away from home), even if it is just so Carl can get money. And at least this insures that he won't hurt her. What would people think if their model came in black and blue?

Mother is at the drug store where she works, so I'm home alone. No one will be home for the nest hour at least. A normal person would leap at the chance to call for help.

I don't know if I would, but I definitely can't. Carl's a twisted bastard who lives only for himself, but he's not stupid. He canceled the home phone line and my cell is with him…wherever he is.

So calling someone is out of the option. And I don't really think going outside is a good idea, because I have another lovely bruise across my right cheekbone and eye, which has swelled shut. Ice reduced some of the swelling, but it hasn't been too helpful.

Also, it's snowing like crazy out there. It's even cold in here. I have a blanket wrapped over my shoulders, and the cold floor is freezing my feet through my socks. The wind is howling outside, and I can hear it battering the walls of the house. I guess it's fitting that the lights choose this time to flicker ominously a few times and then go out, throwing me into the grey dimness created from the stormy light coming through the windows.

I sigh, wondering how on earth Mother is going to get home in _this _weather, and if Mari is stuck in all this, and move out of the cool kitchen and into the slightly warmer living room. I trod into the mouth of the hall and through the door to my room, which is actually the warmest room in the house. It's small, and the curtains on the window are heavy enough to keep the cold from radiating through the single-pane glass.

I grab my Gameboy and sit on my bed, leaning against the wall and turning on to Pokémon. I've been stuck in the same spot for a while now, and I'm determined to get out. Luckily, it's been charging for hours now, so it should last me (hopefully) until the power comes back on.

By the time I hear the noise of the storm worsen for a moment, signaling the opening of the front door, it's been almost forty minutes. I save and shut my game off, listening and trying to figure out who's come home. A set of light footsteps passes my door, and I know that it's Mari and Carl.

I'm proven right a moment later when the door of my room flies open, and the form of my father is visible. I wish I didn't, but it's pretty obvious he's my dad. We have the same color hair (reddish-brown) and similar features. The difference is that Carl is stronger and has a beer gut. And his eyes are brown, not blue like mine.

I don't know where I got my blue eyes. My eyes are dark blue, but Mother's are hazel, Carl's brown, and Mari's eyes are kind of hazel and grey, depending on the light and what she's wearing. My eyes are traitors, though. They always give away _every _single emotion that I'm feeling.

"Why are the lights off?" he demands gruffly.

"The power's out," I reply, trying to keep emotion out of my voice. As long as I talk in a monotone, Carl doesn't seem to get angry.

"Why?"

"I don't know, but it's probably because of the storm."

He growls with frustration, "Stupid boy." With that, he stomps out of my doorway, probably into the kitchen to get another beer. He's obviously sober; he's a lot more violent when he's drunk.

I wish the power were on so we could turn the heat up a bit, because it's freezing in here. I slip out of my room with the blanket still wrapped around me and go to find Mari.

Carl made some changes in the master bedroom. Mother and Mari sleep on two small _blow up _mattresses that hardly fit, while Carl gets the queen sized bed pushed as far over to the wall as possible. It's almost like there's a wall between the two halves of the room. There kind of is, one made of cardboard boxes that hold clothes and things with no other place to be put. Mari is sitting on her "bed", shuffling through what look like photos.

I sit wordlessly next to her. "How did it go?"

"I got hired to model in a small magazine add…these are the sample photos they took to test some things." She hands me the pictures. There are five, each one of different angles. "I brought some of my old photos. They like people with experience, apparently."

I nod. "I think you'll like this, Mari."

She scowls. "I don't want to do it for _him._"

"Then don't. Do it because you like it, and who cares where the money goes?" I return the pictures to her and take another drag on my cigarette.

She frowns at me. "Why are you smoking? I thought you stopped?"

"I did, but now I've started again."

"Those are so bad for you, Mail!"

I shrug. "I'll be fine."

There is a short silence, broken only after a long, thoughtful pause on Mari's part. "You're acting… different, Mail. Like you've still got…life in you, I guess," she murmurs.

"That's because I'm trying."

She knows the deeper meaning to those words, I think. If not, well, the surface definition is close enough. She must understand at some level though, because she hugs me.

"Don't stop trying, Mail. And don't give up like before."

Before. Before is when she caught me about to try to end my life with a bottle of pills.

"I can't promise anything, Mari," I murmur. "But I'm trying."

"At some point, you won't have to try anymore and it will just be easy, I think."

"Maybe."

Yeah…I am trying. Maybe it's because actual happiness was in sight for a short while, and if not in sight, I knew it was coming at some point. Maybe I want that chance back. Or maybe I'm just insane and chasing after the end of the rainbow. And rainbows don't end, they're actually circles.

So maybe I'm fucked and I'm just screwing myself in deeper, but maybe I'm actually trying for a reason. Either way, I'm trying at least a bit. I don't know how long it's going to last, but it's probably worth a shot.

…Probably.

. . .

"Mello is going to flip out, isn't he?" Lawliet says monotonously, chewing on the end of his thumb.

"Probably," Beyond agrees, with a tone that is way too happy for the topic. Said blonde's name is third on the list, meaning that Mello is the third smartest in the whole school, right after Near, Light, and Lawliet. Lawliet and Light actually tied for first, both with perfect scores.

I'm fifty-fourth.

Although, now that Carl's found us, is there any point in keeping myself off of the list of top students? It gets publicized, but I guess there is no point in hiding anymore…

It will be nice not to have to make sure I'm getting only the easy and standard level questions right. It would be one less thing to worry about.

"Here he comes now," Beyond announces. I look over my shoulder at Mello as he approaches us. He has a chocolate bar in one hand and an open book in the other. He's not really looking where he's going, but somehow he doesn't run into anyone or anything. His boots clack on the ground, and his hair is tucked behind his ear.

I swear, he's the type of person you expect people to be all over, begging him to model for their magazines. And I'm not just saying that because I like him. It's simply the truth.

…At least _I _think so.

He stops a few feet from the board and looks up from whatever it is he's reading. His eyes scan the list quickly, and a scowl slowly sets itself on his face. I can see the gears ticking in his head, and I know he's probably calculating how many hours he's spent studying, trying to figure out how much more work he has to do to improve.

Mello works himself harder and harder, pushing himself a little further each time he doesn't quite make it. He forces himself to work a little harder, study a little longer, and learn a little faster. He's going to run himself into the ground at some point, and judging by his expression, that's going to be soon.

He snaps off a piece of chocolate and shifts his weight, putting a hand on his hip. He stares at the board for a moment more, before swiftly turning away from it, an expression of determination and annoyance set firmly on his face.

"Come on, let's go." His words are clipped, matching his expression.

"You did really well," I compliment, knowing that he's going to disagree with me.

"Not any better than usual."

"You mean not any better than Near, don't you." It's not a question, because I know that's what he's thinking. I fall in step beside him and continue speaking. "You know, I don't get why you're so obsessed with getting better than him. Why does it bother you so much? I mean, who cares what Near gets?"

Mello glances at me. "I do."

"Why?"

"He's _always _been better than me, Matt. I used to be the best. But then he came and beat me. And I'm going to be the best again."

I shove my hands in my pockets as we step out into the cold air. "You're going to wear yourself out if you keep pushing yourself like this, you know."

"No, I won't."

"What's the longest you slept the week leading up to finals? I'm going to guess four hours at the most. Won't that do the opposite of help you?"

Mello glares at me. "Why do you care?"

I look down. "…No good reason."

We stop by the tree where Misa usually meets us, but she isn't there. Considering that she's usually here before us, it's a bit odd.

"Where's Misa?" Mello wonders aloud.

"I dunno, maybe-" I see her before I finish my thought, walking towards us with her books hugged to her chest and her eyes down. She's walking quickly, and I immediately know something's wrong.

"Misa?" I ask her as she approaches us. "What's wrong?"

She glances up at me for a second and I see tears in her eyes. Alarmed, I walk forward to meet her.

"What happened?" Mello inquires from a little ways behind me.

"Mari?" I whisper, and she looks at me again.

"I-I want to g-go," she manages, reaching up to wipe the tears away from her eyes.

I nod once and gently tug her along after me, shrugging helplessly at Mello. He starts walking with us, following us as we leave school grounds and start heading home.

We're about halfway to the corner when Misa speaks again. "M-Mail," she manages softly. I don't know if Mello heard that, but I don't look to check. Instead, I face my cousin, who is starting to cry now.

"Misa, really, what happened?" I ask again.

"He b-broke up with m-me! L-Light broke up with me," she sobs, dropping her head onto my shoulder.

It shouldn't surprise me. I told him too, after all. But I didn't know when he was going to do it.

I guess he must really like Lawliet, then.

I wrap my arms around her, trying to comfort her. I lower my head to talk so only she can hear me. "Mari, it's okay. He's not worth your time. I know you think he's perfect, but he's not."

She mumbles something into my shoulder that sounds like, "I know, but I really like him…"

Mello is watching us, looking concerned for Misa, but also a little confused. His eyes meet mine, and they narrow slightly. He tilts his head curiously. He must have heard something.

I look back down at my sister. Whatever he heard, I hope he doesn't question things. I can't explain what he's bound to what to know. I could come up with some excuse, like, Misa calls me "Mail" because that used to be my name before I changed it or something, but that's not very believable.

Misa straightens up, and I let my arms drop from around her. She wipes her eyes, smudging her already running make up and sniffs.

"Come on, let's get you home," I say softly, starting to walk again.

I feel bad for Misa, but it's better like this. Light is obviously not interested in her, and I never really liked him anyway. As much as I try to stay neutral between everyone, it's hard not to take some sides.

"I'll text you later, okay?" I say to Mello at the corner, letting Misa pass me and continue heading down the sidewalk.

"Okay, see you."

"Bye." I hurry after Misa, falling in step beside her and guiding her home. She's awfully broken up about this, and for a moment I wonder if it was right to tell Light to end things with her.

But then I remember seeing him making out with Lawliet behind the school, and those thoughts dissipate.

. . .

"Misa's not feeling well again," I say in response to Sayu's pestering. The two girls are really close, and I hope that Misa wont be mad at Sayu for some reason that only makes sense to girls. Misa really is sick, but mostly heartbroken. That's the best word I can think of to describe her condition at the moment.

Sayu glares at her brother. "I don't blame her. I can't believe Light broke up with her! They were perfect!"

I roll my eyes and follow Sayu's glare at Light. He looks a little guilty. Honestly, I don't think people should be very mad at him. He did what I told him, and this way Misa is hurt a little bit now and not a lot later.

Most of the girls seem to find this as a perfect opportunity to make a move on the infamous top student, another reason why I don't understand girls. He _just _broke up with someone, and you expect him to be ready for a brand new relationship? Seriously, what the heck?

Mello is eating a textbook for lunch, his eyes moving so quickly over the pages that I find it hard to believe that he's actually picking anything up. He must be, though, because he's writing notes just as quickly. Mello's getting dark circles under his eyes that might someday rival Lawliet's, if he keeps up this insane studying.

I sigh, and lay my head on my arms, disregarding my sandwich. I

I'm not hungry, just tired. I've tried really hard to see the positive side of things, and it's _tiring. _It takes _so _much energy to stay happy, compared to far less exhausting depression. It doesn't help that Carl likes seeing me defeated, so he's been hitting harder and more often to get a more satisfying reaction. I think seeing me giving up when he wears me down amuses him. I already knew he was a sick bastard, but it doesn't make things easy.

I can feel the bruises from last night aching under my clothes, reminding me what's waiting for me at home and making it so I can never escape it.

It's got to be in my nature to be pessimistic, because I really suck at this positive stuff.

I've missed school every few days now, because every few days I'll get another bruise on my face or somewhere else where I can't hide it. Sometimes, Misa's concealer does the trick, but I'm paler than her and Mother, and a lot of times there's too many to hide. So I stay home, waiting for them to fade.

I've actually been missing way too much school for the first few weeks of the semester (it's been nearly a month since school started again), and I should probably stop skipping once a week or so, but Carl doesn't seem to care if I get in trouble for missing school. Carl doesn't really care about anything but himself, booze, and money.

I don't care about a lot of things either, so I have to hold on to the things I do.

…Really, I could probably fall asleep right now if Sayu wasn't chattering so loudly right by my ear.

Trying is exhausting.


	13. Sleep isn't Necessarily Necessary

**I'm posting this late, but happy birthday Mello! (Ha-ha this is chapter 13 and Mello's birthday was the 13****th****…just thought I should point that out)**

**Mello POV**

When did I slip up? What day was it when I decided that I was going to sleep instead of studying for ten more minutes? I need to work harder, reading a few more pages every night. Every time I don't quite make it, I always try a little harder, fixing a few things and adjusting my schedule here and there to improve. And I do improve, little by little.

But…that hasn't worked, has it? Near is still better than me. Near still gets the higher score. Near still _wins. _And if improving little by little and adjusting little things isn't helping, than maybe I need to completely redo my work ethic. I need to work far harder than I am now, study for far longer, and work far faster. I don't know exactly how I'll get it done, but I will do it. Even if I have to give some things up.

I can start by sleeping less.

Sleep is an essential human need. Sleep allows the body to replenish itself, the immune system to function, and the brain to process and sort everything. But do I _really _need a full seven hours of sleep? Despite what scientists say about how too much and too little sleep can result in a higher risk of contracting a number of diseases and heart problems, do I actually need to sleep for so long each night? I've done four hours, which was fine, so shouldn't three be sufficient?

Three, four at the most, sounds good to me. And on the weekends, I can try for two, maybe one. I can go straight to homework after school, then studying and working as quickly as I can, still taking as much as possible in, to get through the material for the year and hopefully start on next year's curriculum by the start of Summer, hopefully before.

I _will_ beat Near, and that is final. I am through with being second only to him.

With such determination to succeed, one would think I would have no trouble concentrating on my studies. But no, of course that is never the case. All I can see on the pages in front of me are fading bluish smudges.

When Misa broke down on the way home the other day, sobbing over her break up with Light, I wasn't surprised to see Matt looking worried, but relieved. Misa may be annoying, but she has good intentions and doesn't deserve to be led on.

What I wasn't expecting, though, was to catch sight of the skin that Matt always has covered in stripes. When he hugged his sister, his sleeve got pulled back, revealing impossibly thin wrists, and pale skin marred with faint bruises.

At first I didn't notice them, but my eyes were drawn automatically to his wrists, because I honestly don't think I've ever seen them clearly before. He really is skinny; his bones are prominent and obvious. And there were marks on his skin, fading marks, but they were still there. There is no mistaking that they were bruises, and I have a feeling that there is a reason Matt wears long sleeves.

Sure, for PE we usually change into shorts and a T-shirt, but I've definitely noticed that in that class, Matt tends to stay in the back, almost like he's hiding. And he always has his arms crossed or wrapped around himself. Matt is always _hiding. _

I've had my suspicions for a while now that something isn't quite right with Matt and Misa's home life, and I feel like my thoughts have just been confirmed. I wouldn't know the extent, or the nature of anything, but something is _wrong. _

And it's the only thing that makes sense. Why else would both of them be so…secretive? Misa is more open and social, but Matt is really quiet. Neither of them talks about their pasts or home more than necessary, and only when someone else brings it up and questions them directly. It would explain why Matt hates being touched or cornered, and why he's always wearing long clothing. It might even explain the goggles.

I don't know anything for sure, but I'm smart. And it doesn't take much to put two-and-two together. If something is really going on, then I want to know. Actually, I need to.

Because…the thought of someone hurting Matt, who seems so defenseless and shy, tinges my vision red with anger. Matt is not very strong, both physically and emotionally. Someone would have to be a real cold-hearted bastard to hurt someone like that.

I could just be jumping to conclusions, but it's unlikely, especially when all the pieces fit together like this…

I tangle my hands in my hair and rest my elbows on my desk. Why does all of this have to result in a headache? I get too many headaches. I'm supposed to be _working _right now, but I can't stop thinking about _Matt! _On top of the fact that I'm worried about him (and Misa), I _still _can't forget that damn kiss. It was weeks ago now, but the memory still haunts the back corners of my mind, and jumps out again whenever I see the redhead's face. My stupid explanations and excuses have been repeated so much now that they no longer mean anything. Really, I should probably just admit it now. But it's not that simple.

Why is it so difficult to just accept what I know I'm actually feeling? Do I just think I know, but I don't really? Part of the problem is that I'm not even making any sense anymore. But I just can't seem to let myself admit it, to accept it, and figure out what I'm supposed to do.

It's really confusing, and I don't like being confused.

I'm supposed to be smart. I am a literal genius, tested and proven to have a higher IQ than normal people. So why the heck is something as trivial as feelings so damned complicated?

…Because they aren't trivial. Feelings and emotions aren't unimportant, and I should know that. I've let mine get the better of me more than a few times.

Then again, all of this is unnecessary, because I_ know_ the source of my issues. I just don't want to admit that I actually might sort of _really_ like Matt.

. . .

"You've been absent so much lately," I prompt, glancing up from the page of my science book to look pointedly at Matt.

"I was sick, then Mother caught it so I stayed home to help her, but I never fully got better so I got sick again, and Mother needed help with some stuff," he replies, his tone weary. It's believable, as Matt has seemed a bit under the weather for the past week or two, but I'm skeptical.

"Both of you look ready to drop dead on your feet. How much sleep are you getting each night?" Sayu informs us.

"Not much," Matt and I respond in unison. "I haven't been feeling well anyway, so I'm bound to be tired," Matt adds.

"And I'm busy studying. I don't need more than a few hours of sleep a night."

"You're going to wear yourself down, Mello," Lawliet warns.

"I'll be fine. Can you please let me work?" I mutter, trying to block my "friends" out.

"You study to much! You need to relax a little," Misa says. Misa came back to school just a few days after the break up, and she's pretty much ignoring Light. I haven't been paying much attention to that now, though, because I have other things to focus on namely school and Matt.

Matt has missed school a lot, at least once a week. He's keeping up just fine with schoolwork, but it seems like every week he gets a little more closed off and a little quieter.

As for his schoolwork, Matt is treating it completely differently from how he did in first semester. He hasn't said anything, but I've noticed a drastic difference that's actually only noticeable if you've watched.

On the tests we take in maths at the end of each week, Matt used to take about twenty minutes, marking some of the problems right and the hardest ones wrong, and taking time to write out the solutions on scratch paper. But now, he does everything in his head and is done with it in about ten minutes at the most, depending on how long the test is. He's almost as fast as me. And he's been getting one hundred percent scores, too. He doesn't mention it except when I ask what he got, but his average is ninety-five percent, second in our class only to mine and Near's.

What confuses me is that he seems to care less than he did previously about school. He doesn't bother even looking like he's paying attention or taking notes, and yet he still is doing better than before. He uses class time to play video games under the table and still gets all his work done.

As if I need more nonsensical matters to confuse myself over in my life.

Maybe Matt is doing all his studying at home. It would explain why he's been so exhausted lately, besides being sick.

_ I really need to focus on this if I ever want to understand this concept, _I remind myself. I attempt to return my attention to the formulas I am supposed to be memorizing. _Near will be done with the college material before I even start on that if I don't focus! _

I already know a lot of this, but there are specific things that we are required to know that _must _be put in a specific way and things like that, which is why I'm bothering to go through all of this. Also, it's important to know as much as you can before moving on, so that you have a strong base to go off of and to be able to understand new concepts.

_But I'm so tired…_

"Mello, don't you need to go to your locker?" Matt reminds me, looking up at the clock on the wall.

"No, I already got everything I need before meeting you."

"Okay, good, because the bell is going to ring in five minutes. We should get to fifth period." I glance up at the clock and see that he is right; lunch is almost over.

"Oh, right." I stick my paper into my book and gather my stuff. I shoulder my backpack and take my books in my arms. Matt tugs his ridiculously light backpack on and yawns.

"Did either of you eat anything?" Near says monotonously, twirling his hair. God, doesn't that sheep have better things to do that sit around in the shadows and creep people out?

"No," I say shortly.

"Not hungry," Matt mumbles, stifling another yawn.

As we head out of the cafeteria, I glance at Matt. "Did you sleep at _all _last night?"

He nods. "Yeah, but not very well, and I woke up earlier than I would like."

"How late were you up?"

"What is this, a police interrogation?" he teases. I roll my eyes. "I dunno, one? I got up at six."

"You need seven hours of sleep. A night, not a week."

He snorts. "You're one to talk. I'm going to guess you got maybe three hours in last night."

"Yeah, but unlike you, I give a crap about my schooling. I spend that time studying."

"Hm. You're right, I don't care about school." He falls silent, looking absently off at the river of people moving around us. "I guess there's not a lot that I really care about, really."

I frown. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean… I don't have a lot of things that I really _care _about. Like, there aren't many people whose absence would really bother me, and the same goes for things." He shrugs. "I'm just an indifferent person."

The first bell rings as we approach Miss. Norman's room. "Indifferent, huh?" That makes me wonder…do I mean anything to him, or am I just another person in his life that he doesn't care about? Is he lying, or is he serious when he says he doesn't have a lot of things he cares about?

And…why does the thought that Matt might not really care about me _hurt _so much?

We enter the classroom and take our seats near the back. I set my homework and notebook on my desk and start going over my notes from last night. Geez, I wrote these all down but I hardly remember what they're about.

Miss. Norman checks the homework and begins teaching something that I already taught myself months ago. I don't bother to pay attention; instead I'm focusing on the lesson I'm on at the moment.

But it's hard to concentrate when I'm practically falling asleep, and add to that I can't shake the feeling of a cold rock in my stomach, weighing me down and freezing my insides.

I hope I'm not just someone Matt knows. I hope he means it when he calls me his friend.

I never thought I'd actually think something like that…

. . .

Misa walks up to me, following my gaze to where Matt is standing a few meters away, talking to Mr. Angelo by the doors to the principle's office.

"What's Matt doing?"

I shrug. "Mr. Angelo said he needed to ask him something."

"Oh." She falls silent, and I can hear what the student advisor is saying.

"…Your grades are fine, improving in fact, but you've missed a lot of school lately, haven't you."

Matt shifts his weight uncomfortably. "I've just been a bit under the weather lately. I'm getting better, though, so things should go back to normal soon."

Mr. Angelo frowns in concern, adding more wrinkles to his wizened face. "Is everything at home okay?"

There is a short pause before Matt answers, "Nothing out of the ordinary, if that's what you mean." Nothing out of the ordinary… That's clever of him. "Ordinary" could mean many different things to different people. What's "normal" for Matt's family, I wonder? He smiles reassuringly before glancing back at the two of us waiting for him. "Sorry, I kind of have to go."

Seemingly satisfied with Matt, Mr. Angelo nods. "Alright. If you need to, you can come talk to me on Monday."

"Um, thanks," he mutters, already walking towards Misa and me.

"What was that about?" Misa asks him when he reaches us. Matt shrugs.

"Nothing important; he was just wondering about me keeping up with things because I've been sick so much lately."

"Oh. Well, let's go. Don't you have work today?"

He nods, and we leave the building. I gave up on my old motorcycle after it officially died on me, and I'm honestly fine with walking. And it gives me more time with Matt.

…_Do I really want to spend time with him that badly? I've acted so weird lately, like I'm not myself._ The Mello everyone knows doesn't have the time or the want for love, for a relationship. The Mello everyone knows isn't gay, either. I'm not homosexual, I'm pretty sure of that. So what's with all of these feelings that trace back to Matt? What's with my sudden inability to think clearly?

My goal has always been just to be the best, at least after Mama died. I was her favorite, her special one, and the best to her. Since she passed, I haven't been the best in anything. I can't do anything perfectly, I know that, because humans are imperfect creatures, but can't I just be _near _perfect at _one _thing just _once_? But now…it's like my attention is being pulled away from reaching that, and is focusing instead on something that is probably just going to end up making a big fucking mess.

It doesn't help that the more attention I give to Matt, the more I notice and the more I worry and the more I want to be around him, so I watch him even more carefully. It's a confusing cycle that I don't think I can break.

"Mels!"

I jump as Matt taps my shoulder. "Ah, uh, what?"

Matt rolls his eyes. "Finally, I've repeated your name about five times and you _only_ notice now that I use that nickname you hate and poke you. What does it take to get your attention?"

Isn't that ironic. "Sorry, I was zoning out I guess."

"Yeah, I noticed. Anyway, I was…uh…" he frowns. "Well, shit. I don't fucking remember."

"Remember what?"

Misa starts giggling at our confusion. "You two are ridiculous!"

"…I'm still confused," I admit, pulling my chocolate from my pockets.

"I was going to ask you something, but I forgot," Matt mutters. "Don't zone out again, I might remember it."

Misa laughs again. "Come on, we need to get home so you can get ready to go to Cecil's."

Matt groans. "I like it there, don't get me wrong, but I'm damn tired."

"Well, at least you get to get out of the house," Misa murmurs. Matt shoots her a glance, and sighs.

"Yeah, it gets…boring at home, I guess." He scuffs his boot on a piece of ice. "Still, it'd be nice to go home and sleep."

I nod in agreement. "Well, I have to go. See you," I say over my shoulder as we reach the corner.

"Bye," Matt and Misa reply simultaneously before turning away. I walk a few paces towards my house, when something stops me and I glance back. At nearly the same moment, Matt looks back and catches sight of me. He throws a wave over his shoulder and continues walking.

For some (probably) stupid reason, this puts a small smile on my face.

. . . (**I know, you're probably thinking, "What's with all the breaks?" Well, that's just how this chapter worked out.)**

A weary sigh escapes my mouth before I can stop it. I could be spending this time studying, but of course Baba needed me to go all the way downtown to do some shopping today.

I've gotten everything I need, so I'm heading back to the bus stop. I walk past the small, private businesses without much thought, until I come up on Cecil's Coffee, where Matt works. I seem to stop automatically, and I check the time on my phone. Matt's shift is over in about ten minutes. I can see Matt talking to the blonde kid he works with, Alec, through the window if I look past the reflections of passerby.

I don't see the harm of going in, so I readjust my hold of the paper bag in my hand and push the door open. I'm met with a blast of heated air, the smell of coffee, and the sound of bells going off as the door opens and shuts again behind me. Matt is busy fixing up some caffeinated confection, but Alec glances up and sees me.

"Hey, Matt, don't you know him?"

"Huh?" Matt looks up from the cup of coffee on the counter and notices me. "Oh, Mello! What are you doing here?"

"It's not illegal to come into small coffee shops, is it?"

Matt blinks. "No. That's not what I meant."

I smirk. "I know, smart one. I was shopping for my grandmother and remembered that your shift is almost up, so I thought I'd wait for you."

He smiles. "How sweet of you. You're like a girlfriend now."

I glare at him. "Matt, I will fucking-"

"You're right, my shift ends now, so I'll go get my stuff. Alec, could you deliver this safely to..." Matt checks the name on the cup. "Kathryn?"

Alec grimaces. "Deliver, yes. Safely, maybe. I'll do my best." He takes the coffee gingerly from Matt and makes his way over to the waiting customers.

"One moment Mels, I'll be right back."

_Mels, huh? _Matt doesn't seem to have noticed his usage of the nickname that so irks me. For some (probably) stupid reason, it doesn't bother me as much when it comes out of his mouth, though.

Maybe I just like it when Matt uses it because I like him.

I sigh, and lean against the wall by the end of the counter. I think I need to grow up and accept that I have feelings that exceed friendship for Matt. If I don't, and I don't do something about it, then I might end up saying or doing something later that I'll regret...

"Hey, let's go." Matt's voice shakes me out of my thoughts, and I follow him out of the cafe. The cold air slams into us when Matt opens the door, and he shivers. "Damn, it's cold."

"It is winter, after all."

"Why can't it warm up already?"

"Because it's not summer."

"Someone's literal today, huh," Matt observes.

"I'm exhausted and I still have studying to do. I don't mind shopping, but I have stuff to get done."

There is a pause. "You should skip studying today and sleep."

"Can't do that. Last time I spent time I could have used studying doing things I didn't need to do, and I'm not any closer to first. I actually got a lower score than usual."

"By how much?"

"Two points."

"Mello. First of all, that's ridiculous. Secondly, you do actually need sleep."

"Do as you say, not as you do, huh?"

Maybe I shouldn't have said that. Maybe it's something else. But for whatever reason, Matt won't meet my eyes.

"It's not like i'm staying up late because I want to," he mutters. "I can't sleep."

The bus doesn't take too long to arrive and welcome us into its heated interior. We continue to talk, but as we near our neighborhood, Matt grows quieter and quieter.

He seems anxious, but I get the sense that he doesn't really want to say anything about it.

Still, when he bids farewell and heads off towards his own home, I can't help but be worried.

**So please don't kill me guys. This chapter obviously isn't the best to make up for the looooooooong delay, but i really wanted to get this out. I'm sorry that updates are taking so long!**


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